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1.6 

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1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

1 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS 


BY 


Mrs.  may  AGNES  FLEMING 

AUTHOR   OF   "THE    DARK  SECRKT,"    "THK    QUKKN    OK   THE    ISLE,"   "THE 

HEIRESS    OF    CASTLE    CLIFF,"     "  MAODALEN'S    VUW,"    "THE 

GYPSY  QUEEN'S  VOW,"  "THE  MIDNIGHT  QUEEN,"    ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

THE  FEDERAI,   BOOK   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


CoprRiGHT,  1875, 
BEADLE  &  ADAMS. 


^1 


i 


C0Nrp:NTs. 


CHAPTER 

I.  The  Man  in  the  Cloak ''''''I 

o 

II.  A  Christmas  Gift j5 

III.  The  Brothers .^^ 

IV.  The  Apple  of  Discord 3^ 

V.  The  Hazel  woods  at  Home 40 

VI.  The  Wedding-Night 43 

VII.  The  Tragedy  Slackens 53 

VIII.  The  Last  Dark  Scene gg 

IX.  A  Revelation ^„ 

X.  Stolen 

^'•'^^ •••••••.".'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.■.■.'.■..'.■.'.■.■;.■.■.■.'  90 

XII.  The  Pensionnaires'  Fete og 

XIII.  The  End  of  the  Fete jq^ 

XIV.  A  Tempest  in  a  Teapot 1^^ 

XV.  Eve's  First  Proposal j .,4 

X\ I.  Hazehvood  Hall y,. 

XVII.  Two  Old  Friends. . .  , ,, 

144 

XVIII.  Eve's  Second  Proposal j^^ 

XIX.  A  Moonlight  Interview .,.0 

XX.  A  Stormy  Day 

XXI.  Black  Monks ' ' 

ito 

iii 


""^  CONTENTS. 

CrfAPTER 

XXII.  TheCIoud PAGE 

XXIII.  The  Silver  Lining........  '"'" ^^^ 

XXIV.  Measure  for  Measure....  ^^^ 

XXV.  The  Story  Told  in  the  Death^Room Z 

XXVI.  Jubilate ^^'^ 

XXVII.  A  Parting  Peep.      ^^^ 

220 


-'s 


,1 


% 


I 


PAOB 

.  189 
.  193 
.  197 
.  203 
.  210 
.  220 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   CLOAK. 

Thk  drear  and  dark  December  day  Avas  ending  in  a 
drearier  and  darker  evening.  A  })itter  frost  blackened  tlie 
earth,  wrathful  clouds  bhickened  tiie  sky,  lealless  trees 
rattled  their  skeleton-arms  in  long  and  lamentable  blasts, 
aiid  the  river  rolling  along,  turbid  and  troubled,  tossed  \ii 
l)lack  surges  and  mo.'ined  dismally  up  on  the  black  sands. 
Everything  looked  glnistly  and  dismal,  in  the  gray,  spec- 
tral twilight  ;  the  lonely  little  river-side  village  lying  life- 
less under  the  gaunt,  stri[>2)ed  trees  ;  tlie  long,  lonesome 
country-road,  winding  ''in  and  out  among  deserted  fields 
and  soddy  marshes  ;  the  bleak  hills  in  the  background, 
and  the  l)leaker  sandv  level  in  the  foreii'round,  with  noth- 
ing  of  life  near  but  the  solitary  l;:tle  way-station,  on  whoso 
])latform  a  retl  light  burned. 

Of  all  lonely  way-stations,  nndisturbed  from  dawn  to 
dark  except  when  the  train  came  sin'eaming  through, 
there  could  scarcely  be  found  one  lonelier  than  the  little 
station  in  the  sandy  level  at  the  village  of  Riverside.  In 
the  pleasant  summer-time,  Avhen  the  sun  shone  on  the 
white  sands,  the  cows  grazed  in  the  grass  meadows,  and 
the  birds  sung  in  the  waving  trees,  it  was  a  ])leasant  spot 
enough  ;  but  now,  with  tlie  December  snow  falling  ghostly 
around  it,  vou  mio-ht  have  searched  lonjx  befoj-e  vou  could 
imd  a  more  solitary  or  deserted  spot.  In  summer-time, 
the  train  from  the  city  never  arrived  without  stop])ij!g  to 
set  down  sporting  young  Ootlmmites,  armed  with  llshing- 
rods  and  tackle  ;  for  Riverside  wa'^  famous  for  trout  jind 
pretty    girls,  and   young   Xew  Yorkers  found  it   Ji  very 


6 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


enlivening  way  to  pass  tlie  dog-days,  angling  for  one  and 
making  love  to  the  other.  ]5ut  in  December,  when  the 
tn)Ut-streams  were  ice-bound,  the  pretty  girls  unwilling 
to  redden  their  dear  little  noses  by  exi)osure  to  Jack  Frost's 
kisses,  md  the  oj)era  and  theater  in  i'ull  blast  in  tho 
Empire  City,  young  Xow  York  stayed  at  homo,  and  tho 
train  passed  through,  evening  after  evening,  without  land- 
inii;  anv  one  at  the  lonesome  station. 

On  this  particular  December  evening,  the  clerk  sat  iu 
his  little  den,  witli  one  or  two  especial  frieiuls,  smoking 
clay  pipes,  while  waiting  for  the  last  down-train.  A  few 
passengers  sat  in  the  waiting-room,  reading  the  Eivcrsido 
Mcrciirji,  or  talking,  to  while  away  the  tedious  interval, 
or  looking  at  the  snow  falling  in  feathery  ilakes  ou  the 
frost-blackened  ground.  The  cylinder-stoves  in  the  clerk's 
office  and  waiting-room  were  heated  red-hot,  and  the  lamps 
were  llaring  cheerful  defiance  to  the  growing  gloom  with- 
out. 

''  [  say,  ]\Ir.  Station-master,  ain't  the  oars  late  to-night  ?  " 
asked  ii  burly  passenger,  putting  his  head  in  at  the  ofilce- 
window. 

The  clerk  looked  at  the  little  clock  fastened  to  the  wall, 
and  took  his  pipe  from  between  his  lips. 

'^  It's  oidy  half-})a3t  four,  sir  ;  they'll  be  along  directly. 
Oh,  here  thev  cotne  now." 

Everything  was  in  commotion  directly.  Everybody 
Avas  on  his  feet  ;  overcoats  were  donned,  carpet-bags  aiul 
valises  were  sinzed,  ami  a  general  stampede  made  for  the 
platform.  With  tho  unearthly  yell  of  a  demon,  the  ex- 
pected train  rushed  in  and  stopped,  and  tlie  faces  of  the 
jKissengers  looked  out  thi'ough  the  steamed  and  blurred 
Avindows  at  the  Iviversidc  station.  T!ie  i)cople  in  the 
waiting-room  bustled  in,  and  the  loafers  smoking  v/ith  tho 
clerk  watched  them  go. 

*'  No  one  for  Riverside,  I'll  be  bound,"  one  of  them  said  ; 
''city  folks  don't  think  it  worth  while  to  stop  at  our 
village  when  the  cold  weather  conies." 

The  speaker  was  mistaken.  Before  he  had  ceased  speak- 
ing, fi  man  stepped  from  the  cars  on  the  platform,  and 
entered  the  waiting-room  to  light  a  cigar.  With  another 
frightful  shriek  the  train  sped  on  its  wtiy,  and  the  clerk 
and  his  friends  came  in  out  of  the  cold  winter  air,  to  the 
warm  inllufiioe  of  the  red-hot  cylinders. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CLOAK. 


The  traveler  wlio  had  stopped  was  tall  and  commanding 
of  Hgure,  with  the  iinmi.-^takable  air  and  heariiii,^  of  a 
gentleman.  Jle  was  young,  too,  and  very  gooddooking  ; 
and  tlie  long  traveling-cloai<;  he  wore,  with  its  deep,  furred 
collar,  bet-'anie  his  line  form  well.  A  fur  cap  was  pulled 
over  his  eyes  ;  and  as  he  drew  off  one  of  his  warm  travcl- 
ing-gl()vcs,  the  clerk  and  his  friends  had  their  eyes  dazzled 
by  the  blaze  of  a  diamond  ring  o?i  a  hand  white  and 
shapely  as  a  lady's.  His  sole  journeying  equipage  seemed 
to  consist  of  liis  cigar-case,  from  which  he  leisurely  selected 
a  weed,  and  lit  it  at  one  of  the  tlaring  lamps. 

'^  A  sharp  night,  sir,"  the  clerk  suggested  respectfully, 
a  little  awed  bv  the  sti-iking  fmure  aiid  flashing  diamond, 
•'  won't  you  sit  down  and  take  an  air  of  the  tire  ?  " 

*'  I'm  not  cold,  thank  you,"  the  tall  stranger  said,  })iill- 
ing  out  a  su[)crb  gold  hunting-watch,  and  glancing  at  tho 
liour.  "  Twenty  minutes  to  live,  and  dark  already  !  (iood 
night  to  you.'' 

Drawing  on  his  glove  again,  and  pufling  away  ciur- 
geiicaily,  the  gentlenuin  walked  out  of  the  waiting-room. 
The  clerk  and  his  friends  went  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  after  him — in  tho  gloom  of  the  winter  night  they  ct-uld 
see  him  striding  through  the  falling  siiow,  with  tremendous 
sweep  of  limb,  in  the  tlirection  of  the  village. 

"'An  uncommon  swell,  that,"  one  of  tliem  said,  going 
back  to  tlie  stove.  "Did  you  notice  that  'ere  ring  on  his 
little  fiiigei'  I  It  cost  a  few  dimes,  did  that  Hasher,  I've  a 
notion." 

*'  What  brings  him  to  Kiverside,  T  wonder  ?  "  remarked 
another.  "There's  no  fishing  or  partridge-shooting  now, 
and  he  looks  too  grand  to  come  on  any  other  business." 

'SSeenis  to  me  I've  seen  that  young  chap  l)efore,"  said 
the  cierk,  meditating.  "It  ain't  his' first  visit  to  River- 
side, or  he'd  never  know  the  road  to  the  village  so  well. 
►Should  like  to  know  where  he's  going  when  he  gets  tliere." 

"  To  the  Golden  Swan,  most  likely,"  s;iid  the  first 
speaker.  "  Vio  on  with  that  st<iry  you  were  telling  us, 
Johnson,  when  tho  train  came  in," 

^riio  "  (iolden  Swan  "  was  the  oidy  hotel  in  liiverside, 
and  the  gentleman's  suggestions  were  correct  ;  it  was  to 
that  establishment  the  strjinger  went.  It  was  nearly  a 
mile  from  the  station  to  the  hotel,  over  the  bleakest  of 
roads,  with  the  ghostly  snow  falling  noiselessly,  and  the 


8 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


winter-wind  rattling  through  tlie  bare  trees,  but  tlie  young 
man  walked  on,  heeding  tlie  cold  and  the  darkness  very 
little,  straight  to  where  the  red  light  streamed  out  from 
the  crimson-curtained  windows  of  the  bar-room.  As  he 
opened  the  door  unceremoniously,  tlie  blaze  of  illumination 
from  himp  and  fire  dazzled  him  for  a  moment,  accustomed 
as  he  had  become  to  the  outer  darkness.  Some  half-dozen 
men,  with  the  landlord  at  their  head,  playing  cards  round 
a  table,  looked  up,  and  stared  curiously  at  the  newcomer, 
who  was  stamping  tlie  snow  olf  his  boots  in  the  door- 
way. 

'*  Good  evening,  stranger,"  the  landlord  said,  lying 
down  his  cards  and  standing  up.  *'  Walk  in  and  take 
a  chair." 

'^I'U  take  something  more  substantial,  Mr.  Jarvis," 
answered  the  stranger,  advancing  ;  ''  my  supper,  if  you 
have  no  objection.  Traveling  such  a  night  as  this  is 
hungry  business." 

The  landlord  looked  puzzled  and  curious.  "  You  seem 
to  know  me,  sir,"  lie  said,  eying  the  tall  stranger  in  the 
cloak.  "  You  have  the  advantage  of  me,  for  I  don't  know 
your  name." 

"  You  used  to,  then,"  said  the  young  man,  "  and  not  so 
long  ago,  either." 

He  lifted  his  fur  cap  as  he  spoke,  and  Mr.  Jarvis  gave 
a  shout  of  recognition  at  sight  of  his  handsome  face,  and 
came  forward  with  extended  hand. 

"  Bless  my  heart,  captain,  is  it  you  ?  Who'd  ever 
thought  of  seeing  you  here  at  this  time  o'  year  ?  How 
uncommon  well  you  are  looking,  too." 

'*  Thank  you,  Jarv'^  ;  I  feel  tolerable  well,  I  allow. 
How  is  Mrs.  Jarvis  and  pretty  Lizzie  ?  " 

'^First-rate,  cap'n,  and  rare  glad  they'll  be  to  see  you, 
too.  I  say,  old  woman,"  Mr.  Jarvis  yelled,  putting  his 
head  in  at  an  open  door  from  which  issued  a  powerful 
odor  of  fried  ham  and  a  clatter  of  cups  and  saucers,  ''and 
you,  Liz,  come  and  see  who's  here." 

A  dumpy  little  Avoman,  with  a  white  muslin  cap  and 
brass-rimmed  spectacles,  followed  by  a  dumpy  little  dam- 
sel, with  rosy  cheeks  and  bare,  plump  arms,  responded  to 
this  call,  bearing  the  odor  of  ham  and  tea  in  every  fold 
of  their  check  aprons  and  gingham  gowns.  Mrs.  Jarvis 
gave  a  little  cry,  and  Lizzie  uttered  an  exclamation  at 


5; 


■&■ 


■4 
1 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CLOAK. 


» 


f 


sii,'bt  of  tlie  visitor,  who  stood,  chapeuu  in  hand,  smiling 
before  them. 

**Land  of  hope!"  Cap'n  Forrest,"  Mrs.  Jiirvis  shrilly 
cried,  "where  on  uirtli  did  you  drop  from  this  time  o' 
night?" 

"'  I  knew  she'd  be  fliibl)ergtisted  on  siglit  o'  von,"  re- 
marked ^Ir.  Jarvis,  nodding  deliglitedly.  '"•  Lizzie,  wliy 
don't  yon  come  over  and  shake  Inimls  with  Cap'n  Forrest  ?  " 

Lizzie,  lier  rosy  cheeks  considerably  rosier  tlian  tiieir 
wont,  came  shyly  forward,  holding  out  Ji  plump  hand, 
which  the  good-looking  young  captain  sbook  with  a 
warmth  a  trifle  greater  tlian  he  had  given  to  papa  and 
mamma. 

"  Very  glad  to  see  yon  again,  Lizzie,  and  as  blooming 
as  ever,  too.  I  couldn't  forget  yon,  yon  see,"  lowering 
his  voice,  and  giving  the  phinip  hand  a  parting  squeeze, 
'•and  so  had  to  come  back  to  Riverside." 

'•  And  bow's  all  tiie  other  young  gentlemen,  cap'n,  and 
where  have  you  been  ever  since  last  summer  ?  "  inqnired 
]\lrs.  Jarvis,  dusting  a  chair  with  her  apron  for  him  to  sit 
down. 

''  They  were  all  well  when  I  left  them,  Mrs.  Jarvis  ; 
and  as  for  me,  I  have  been  knocking  abont  the  world  in 
my  old  vagabond  style,  never  very  long  anywhere." 

*' And  you  haven't  gone  back  to  England  yet  ?  " 

Captain  Forrest  laughed,  displaying  a  set  of  brilliant 
white  teeth. 

''  I  have  not  gone  back  to  England  yet.  I  like  New 
York  too  well  for  that.  But,  Mrs.  Jarvis,  Fm  hungry, 
and  smell  cooking  within  there,  so " 

lie   made    a   laughing   motion    to    enter,    and    all  the 


hostess  was  aroused  in  dumpy  little  ^h\s.  Jarvis  at 
once. 

"To  be  sure,  cap'n  ;  to  be  sure.  Whatever  conld  I  be 
thinking  of,  not  to  know  von  must  be  linugrv.  Come 
right  in,  and  von'll  have  v<>ur  sn])iK'r  m  live  minutes. 
Lizzie,  run  and  look  after  those  biscmits.  1  expect  the 
ham's  burned  to  a  ci'isp  by  this  time." 

Lizzie  and  her  mother  llew  back  to  the  inner  apartment, 
and  Ca])tain  Forrest  lingered  for  a  moment  to  speak  to 
mine  host. 

"  I  am  going  back  to  Xew  York  by  the  np-train,  Jarvis  ; 
what  time  does  it  pass  ?  " 


lO 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 

"  Nine  o'clock,  cap'n  ;  bnt  ain't  yon  going  to  stay  all 
ni.^lit  ?  " 

"Can't,  nil  fortunately.  I  came  down  on  bnsiness. 
Can  you  have  theirig  in  readiness  by  tlie  time  I  get  through 
supper  ?  J  liave  a  few  miles  to  go,  and  shall  not  stop  this 
way  again.  1  can  leave  it  in  charge  of  the  clerk  at  tiic 
railway-station 


-'si 


}) 


''  Certainly,  cap'n,  bnt  I  should  like  to  have  yon  stay. 
It's  too  bad  you  should  leave  us  in  such  a  Inirrv."' 

"  Tlie  loss  is  mine,  Mr.  Jarvis  ;  nothing  would  give  me 
more  pleasure  than  staying,  but  business  before  pleasure, 
you  know." 

"  1  did  not  tliink  Captain  Forrest  ever  had  any  weightier 
bnsiness  than  fooling  silly  girls,"  said  Mr.  Jarvis,  with 
knowing  eyes  ;  ami  the  handsome  young  captain  laughed. 

"  I'm  a  reformed  character,  ]\fr.  Jarvis  ;  don't  look  so 
dubious  ;  it's  the  truth,  I  assure  you.  And  now  for  some- 
thing to  stitisfy  the  inner  n.'an." 

Throwing  his  cloak  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  his 
caj)  aiul  gloves  thereon,  ho  strolled  into  the  next  room, 
luimniing  an  air.  The  moment  bis  back  was  turned,  Mr. 
J;!,rvis  v\';i.s  besieged  with  questions. 

''  I  don't  know  much  about  liini,"  that  gentlonuui  stiid, 
resuming  his  seat  and  his  cards,  '^except  t])at  lie  is  an 
uncommon  fine  young  gentleman,  ready  to  spend  money 
like  a  pi'inee.  He  came  here  last  summer  with  a  lot  of 
other  youug  gentlemen,  to  fish  nnd  slioot,  aiul  stopped 
witli  us  for  three  weeks.  His  name  is  Captain  Forrest, 
and  he  is  an  Fnglishmau,  niore's  the  pity  :  and  that's 
everything  1  know  about  him.     Dobson,  the  deal's  yours." 

Yv'hile  Mr.  Dobson  shuffied  the  cards  and  Mr.  Jarvis 
summoned  Ids  onlv  servant  lohim,  who  was  eatiiu';  pea- 
nut;:  and  overlooking  the  game,  to  go  out  and  fetch  the 
gig  and  mare,  the  young  gentleman,  whose  biography  he 
liad  l)een  giving  them,  was  seated  before  a  table,  laden 
with  tea  and  toast,  ham  ami  eiigs,  liome-made  cake  and 
pies,  discussing  tlio  viands  with  the  appetite  of  a  lumgry 
travehM*.  while  jrood-nafured  little  '^^rr^.  Jarvis  slood  with 
her  fat  liauds  on  her  fat  sides,  overlooking  the  perfor- 
mance with  a  face  beaming  with  hospitable   delight. 

'^  Aud  so  Iiiverside  is  the  sanu^  old  story."  Captain 
Forrest  was  saying  ;  "  no  changes  at  all,  I  suppose.  No- 
body dead  or  nuirried,  or  left  or  settled,  eh  ?  " 


I 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CLOAK. 


II 


'S 


''Xot  many,  cap'ii  ;  folks  when  they  settle  clown  here 
don't  care  to  leave,  and  uvw  folks  doiii't  much  care  to  come. 
Try  tlie  pie.     I  made  it  myself,  and  1  know  it's  good." 

**  It  must  be  if  you  made  it.  And  so  there  have  been 
no  chan,f::es  at  all  ? " 

Lizzie  turned  round  from  the  cookstove,  over  which 
she  was  bonding,  with  a  scarlet  face. 

*'  Tlicrc's  some  folks  moved  into  one  of  them  old  houses 
0!i  the  marsli  lately,  niotiier.     Ain't  you  heard  of  them  ?" 

Islvs.  Ja»'vis  turned  up  her  nose. 

"  Oh,  tiiey're  of  no  account.  They  must  be  {)oor  as 
Job's  turkey,  wlioever  tln^y  are,  or  tlu\v  wouhhi't  live 
there.      Ifave  another  cup  of  tea.  cap^n,  and  try  the  cake.'' 

'•  I  dare  say  they're  ])oor  enough,"  said  Li:>:zie,  going  on 
with  her  cooking,  "'but  the  young  woman  that's  tiiere 
looks  like  a  lady,  and  everybody  says  so.  She's  handsomer 
tlian  anybody  I  ever  saw  before  in  my  life.'' 

"  What's  lier  name  ?  "  asked  Captain  Foi'rest,  looking 
interested. 

"  Nobody  knows.  They  came  a  few  weeks  ago,  four  of 
tliem — an  old  wonnm,  and  a  young  one  and  two  children. 
It's  the  young  woman  that's  so  handsome,  and  the  two 
children,  and  I  do  say  she  looks  like  a  lady,  if  she  is  poor.'' 

"  Has  she  over  been  here  ?  " 

*'  xs'o  ;  she  don't  go  out  nuudi,  but  I've  seen  her  once  or 
twice.  The  old  woman  comes  to  the  store  somotinn's  for 
things,  but  nobody  knows  lier  name,  or  whore  they  cotne 
from,  or  anything  about  them." 

"  And  I  don't  believe  they're  any  better  than  they  ought 
to  bo,"  struck  in  Mrs.  rlarvis,  with  the  usual  charity  of 
her  SOX  ;  "'wiiere  there's  secrecy  tlun-e's  guilt,  that's  my 
opinion.     Do  try  the  cakes,  ca])'n,  won't  you  ?  " 

'^  Couldn't,  possibly.  I  have  done  am[)ie  justice  to  your 
good  tilings,  I  think.  Mrs.  Jarvis,  and  now  1  must  ])id  you 
good-by  and  be  off." 

Al.s.  .larvis  protested  loudly,  ami  l^izzie  looked  nn- 
spo:ikal)lo  things  under  h^r  eyoiashes,  ])ut  Captain  l-'orrost 
v.'as  [)roof  against  l)oth,  and  returned  to  the  b;ir-room, 
where  the  card-party  was  still  in  full  blast. 

**  The  boss  and  gig's  at  the  door,  ca})'n,"  ]\[r.  Jarvis  said, 
''  but  r  don't  see  why  you  can't  come  back  and  stop  with 
us  a  M'oek  or  so.  It  seems  kinder  bad  to  liavo  vou  come 
one  moment  and  lly  oil  the  next." 


p  ' 


12  THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 

"Can't  be  helped,  imfortunately/'  said  the  young  muu, 
throwing  liis  cloak  over  his  shoulder,  and  putting  on  his 
cap  and  gloves  ;  "good-by,  Mrs.  Jarvis ;  good-by,  Lizzie  ; 
don't  get  married  till  I  come  back  again.  There's  no 
telling  but  I  may  take  a  fancy  to  have  a  wife  one  of  these 
days.  Good-by,  .Atr.  Jarvis  :  a  thousand  thanks  for  the 
se  of  the  ij^'i^^.     You'll  find  it  all  safe  lo-niorrow  morninir 


us 


fci'» 


at  the  station.  ' 

Shaking    hands   all  round,  the  young   man  went   out, 
followed  bv  Mr.  and  Mrs.   Jarvis.     The  s'lS  stood  at  the 


S)'& 


door,  and  he  sprung  lightly  in,  seized  the  reins,  touched 
the  horse  with  the  whi[>,  ami  shouting  a  last  good-by,  tlew 
off  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness  of  the  December  night. 

^J'he  snow  was  falling  rai)idly  now  ;  antl  the  road,  running 
between  rows  of  tall,  black  trees,  looked  like  a  silver  line 
set  in  ebony.  The  darkness  is  never  very  dense  wheu  it 
snows;  ami  though  neither  moon  nor  stars  shone  to  show 
hirn  the  way,  he  kept  the  horse  at  full  speed,  and  rattled 
rapidly  on  over  the  frosty  ground.  His  ride  was  not  long  ; 
half  an  hour  brought  him  to  the  end  of  the  village,  and 
the  end  of  his  journey  in  that  direction.  It  was  a  lonely 
not  to  say  dismal  spot  in  Avhich  he  chose  to  alight  ;  on 
one  side,  the  river  rolled  turbid  aiul  black  ;  on  the  other, 
miry  marshes  spread,  sloppy  and  sodden.  Before  him, 
the  path  lost  itself  in  a  frowning  cedar-wood,  where  mur- 
ders might  have  been  committed  in  broad  daylight,  and 
no  one  be  the  wiser.  Yet,  dismal  as  the  marshes  were,  a 
few  wretched  houses  were  scattered  here  and  there,  from 
whose  crooked  chimneys  smoke  curled,  and  from  whose 
broken  wijidows  lights  gleamed.  Only  the  very  poor 
could  have  remained  there,  and  fever  and  ague  must  have 
been  the  bosom-friends  of  their  wretched  innnites. 

The  handsome  young  English  captain,  witli  the  diamond 
on  his  finger,  one  would  think  could  have  little  to  do  with 
the  dwellers  in  such  a  place.  Yet  here  lie  cuose  to  alight, 
and  tying  the  horse  to  a  tree,  took  a  survey  of  the  four 
or  five  miserable  dwellings  around. 

"One  of  the  houses  in  the  marsh,  they  told  me,'"  he 
said,  to  himself.  "  I  wonder  which  of  them  it  is  ;  perhaps 
I  had  better  talie  them  as  they  come." 

There  was  a  path  through  these  miry,  treaclierous 
marshes — he  knew  it  well,  and  struck  into  it  at  once  ;  for  in 
the  sunny  days  gone  by  he  had  wandered  there  often,  with 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  CLOAK. 


13 


(I 
a 


0 


J* 
ir 

e 

s 

II 


his  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  his  do<::^  at  his  heels.  It  led 
liim  straio-ht  to  one  of  the  niiserable  d\velli!i2:s — a  wretched 
place,  with  tumble-down  cliiniuey.  rattling  doors,  broken 
windows  and  leaky  roof.  Ligiits  shone  from  two  of  tlie 
ruined  windows — very  feebly  from  one  in  the  gable,  and 
brighter  from  another  in  front.  There  was  a  white  mus- 
lin shade  over  each,  but  so  short  and  torn  that  the  case- 
ments they  adorned  would  have  been  (|uile  as  well  without 
tliem,  either  for  ornament  or  use.  Standing  on  the  out- 
side, you  could  see,  if  you  chose,  everything  going  on 
within  ;  and  Ca})tain  Forrest  evidently  found  the  view 
Interesting,  for  he  stood  gazing  steadily  and  long.  The 
exterior  of  the  building  was  wretched  enough,  but  the 
interior  was  wretched  in  the  extreme.  Abject  poverty 
reared  its  ghastly  head  everywhere  ;  it  stared  at  you  in 
the  rickety  chairs,  in  the  rough  deal  table,  in  the  rougher 
trundle-bed  in  the  corner,  its  miserable  straw  pallet 
'covered  with  coarsest  bedding.  A  tidlow  candle  guttering 
m  a  dirty  brass  candlestick,  shed  tears  of  fat  on  the  table, 
,.  d  its  dim  red  light  on  the  two  women  who  were  the 
only  inmates  of  the  bare  and  cheerless  room.  There  was 
a  wood  fire,  smoldering  and  smoking  viciously  on  the 
hearth  ;  and  they  sat  on  two  low  stools,  facing  each  other, 
one  in  each  cormu*.  From  the  position  in  which  he  stood, 
one  M'as  directlv  facing  Captaiii  Forrest,  the  other  had  her 
back  to  him.  She  whom  he  saw  was  old,  ugly,  hideously 
wrinkled,  wretchedly  clad,  and  was  emulating  the  chimney 
by  puffing  forth  clouds  of  smoke  from  a  short,  blackened 
clay  pipe.  The  other,  with  her  back  to  him,  ajipeared 
youthful  of  figure  ;  and  a  great  cloud  of  golden  hair,  sach 
as  we  see  in  pictures  of  Mary  Magdalene,  hung  loose  and 
disordered  over  her  shoulders  and  down  her  back.  Iler 
dreso  was  as  poor  as  that  of  the  other  ;  and  slie  cowered 
over  the  smoky  fire,  in  a  srrange,  distorted  attitude  of 
piiin.  It  was  a  gloomy  picture  Captain  Forrest  saw, 
whether  he  looked  within  or  without ;  the  bad,  black 
night  ;  the  ghastly  white  snow,  ever  falling,  falling  ;  the 
bleak  and  lonesome  marsh(*s.  the  dismal  night  sky,  and 
more  dismal  river  roaring  sullenly  along,  the  empty  an.l 
comfortless  room,  and  the  two  lonely  watchers  over  the 
smoky  fire.  No  wonder  he  turned  away  with  something 
of  the  surrounding  gloom  darkening  his  fat*e. 

"It  is  her  own  fault,"  he  said,  jfrowning  ;  "why  will 


(^ 


14 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


sho  be  a  fool.     But  now  for  the  children — there  is  no  time 
to  lose." 

lie  turned  to  tlie  side-window,  from  which  tlie  feebler 
liglit  shone,  and  looked  in  as  he  liad  done  at  the  other. 

"Here  there  was  neither  fire  nor  furniture,  only  anotlier 
trundle-bed  in  a  corner,  and  another  tallow  candle,  with 
a  long-,  red  wick,  ihiming  and  guttering  ou  the  floor. 

EvideMtl_y  he  liad  found  what  lie  wanted,  for  lie  tried 
the  window — it  opened  easily,  and  ho  stepped  into  the 
chamber.  On  the  trundle-bed  two  children  lay  asleep, 
their  peaceful  faces  looking  up  through  a  tangled  pro- 
fusion of  black,  curling  hair.  He  scarcely  sto])ped  a 
moment  to  look  at  tiiem  ;  but  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
bottk»  and  sponge,  poured  sonit'  of  the  conteuts  of  the  one 
on  the  other,  and  held  it  to  the  nostrils  of  the  sleeping 
children.  His  breathing  deepened  ;  the  sweet  slumber  of 
infancy  was  changed  to  a  heavy,  death-like  insensibility, 
and  the  young  m;in  rephiccd  his  bottk;  and  S])onge. 

*'  Wliat  a  blessing  chloroform  is,  judiciously  adminis- 
tered ! "  he  muttered.  '^1  don't  think  they  will  give 
much  trouble  for  the  next  two  hours.     Now  then  I  " 

'IMiere  was  no  quilt  or  blanket  over  the  poor  little  bed, 
only  a  heavy  plaid  shawl,  gaudy  once,  but  faded  and 
threadbare  now.  The  young  man  wrapped  the  little 
forms  closely  in  its  ample  folds,  took  them  easily  in  his 
arms,  and  stepped  out  through  the  window,  closed  it  softly, 
and,  without  waiting  to  cast  one  parting  glance  behind, 
mjide  for  his  gig  on  the  roadside. 

Taking  his  seat,  with  the  children  on  his  knee,  sheltered 
from  the  cold  and  storm  by  his  fui'-liued  cloak,  he  started 
olf  at  a  break-neck  pace  for  the  railway-station. 

The  last  up-train  was  just  dashing  in  as  he  reached  it, 
and  he  had  barely  time  to  secure  his  ticket  and  leave  Mr. 
Jarvis'  j)roporty  in  charge  of  the  clerk,  before  it  tore  off 
again,  shrieking  like  a  demon.  He  had  the  chiklren, 
both  rolled  up  together  in  the  shawl,  under  his  cloak. 
The  sleepy  passengers  scarcely  looked  at  him  as  he  took 
hi  seat,  and  in  ten  minutes  lliversido  and  the  house  on 
the  mars]>  were  far  Ixdiind.  and  he  and  his  sleeping  prizes 
were  Hying  along  to  the  city. 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 


15 


CHAPTER  II. 


A    CIIKTSTMAS    GIFT. 


le 

lis 


'■jf 


it, 


Christmas  eve,  uiid  ti  coUl,  clear  night.  Bright  stars 
shining  in  a,  blue  wintry  sky,  a  crcoocnt  moon  treading 
its  silvery  way  up  the  hlue-black  concave,  where  tlie  con- 
stellations were  flaming  ;  a  clear,  bright,  bracing  night, 
full  of  promise  of  a  cloudless  coming  day.  Christnuis  eve, 
and  Broadway  crowded.  All  gaslight,  and  glitter,  and 
throbbing  life  ;  every  shop-window  a  picture  at  which  yi>u 
might  stand  entranced  ;  cars  and  stages,  with  their  l)ril- 
liant-colored  liglits,  flashing  up  and  down  like  overgrown 
lire  flies  ;  the  pavement  crowded  with  pedestrians,  |)ushing, 
elbowing,  jostling  ;  for  Christmas  eve  comes  but  once  a 
year,  and  the  veriest  miser  must  unloose  his  purse  before 
the  tempting  stores. 

A  man,  buttoned  u])  to  tlie  chin  in  an  overcoat  of  scd- 
skin,  with  a  scarlet  comforter  wound  al)out  his  neck,  and 
a  crush  l>at  pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  strode  along  through 
the  surging  sea  of  life,  pushing  and  jostling  with  the  best 
in  his  hurry,  but  never  stopping  as  the  other  folk  did  to 
enter  the  toy-shops  and  confectionery  and  jeweliw  stores. 
Ko  ;  this  num  eyed  all  such  places,  as  he  trotted  by  them, 
with  a  sidelong  glance  of  sour  disdain,  and  jjursued  the 
even  tenor  of  liis  way  for  a  mile  or  so  up  the  tlironged 
thoroughfare.  lie  stopped  at  last  under  a  street-lam}),  and 
pulled  a  card  out  of  l)is  pocket,  which  he  perused  with 
deliberation,  by  the  aid  of  a  pair  of  old-fashioned,  silver- 
rimmed  spectacles.  Tic  was  a  little  man,  you  could  see  ; 
thin  ami  dark  of  face  ;  with  small,  jiiercing  eyes  ;  thin, 
compressed,  cynical  lips,  and  a  rai)id,  energetic  way  of 
doing  even  the  smallest  thing,  that  would  liave  nuule  a 
quiet  person  nervous  to  behold. 

"Number — ,  Fifth  avenue,"  the  little  man  read  from 
the  card.     "  I  ought  to  be  near  the  place  now." 

Turning  out  of  bustling  Broadway,  he  made  for  tho 
quieter  avenue  beside  it,  ami  walked  along  that  aristocratic 
place,  looking  at  the  numbers  on  the  houses  us  lie  went. 


i6 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


A  few  minutes'  rapid  walking,  and  he  drew  rein  before  a 
stately  brown-stone  front,  with  two  lamps  burning  in  front 
of  its  aristocratic  portal.  On  the  silver  doorplate  was  in- 
scribed the  name  '*  Hazelwood  "  ;  and  the  little  man  in  the 
seal-skin  overcoat  and  red  woolen  comforter,  nothing  awed 
by  its  magnificence,  ran  boldly  np  the  steps  and  wrung  a 
stirring  reveille.  A  yonng  man  in  livery  answered  the 
summons,  and  stared  superciliously  at  the  crush  hat  and 
seal-skin  coat. 

"  Is  Mr.  Hazelwood  at  home  !  "  asked  the  little  man,  in 
a  sharp,  quick,  imperative  voice,  no  more  awed  by  the 
tall  young  man  in  livery  than  he  had  been  by  the  impos- 
ing exterior  of  the  mansion. 

"Yes,  he  is,''  said  the  tall  young  man  ;  *'but  I  rather 
think  he  is  engaged.     Did  you  want  to  see  him  ?" 

*'  Give  him  that,"  replied  the  little  man,  shortly,  pulling 
out  a  card.     *'  I'll  wait  here  until  you  come  back." 

It  was  no  gilt  and  glittering  visiting-card,  but  a  veritable 
piece  of  pasteboard,  with  "Jeremiah  Lance '^  written  on 
it  in  a  stilt  cramped  hand.  The  young  man  in  livery 
looked  at  it  dubiously,  and  then  at  its  owner,  whose 
peculiarly  brilliant  eyes  were  beginning  to  flash  rather 
ominously  behind  his  lunettes.  Perhaps  it  was  the  fiery 
brightening  of  his  glance  that  taught  the  tall  young  man 
he  had  better  do  as  he  was  ordered  :  so  he  turned  away 
with  a  slow  and  stately  step,  leaving  the  visitor  in  the 
doorway. 

He  could  see  a  grand  entrance  hall,  with  cornished  ceil- 
ing, its  walls  adorned  with  rich  paintings  and  pretty 
statues,  lit  with  blazing  clusters  of  gas  ;  a  wide  marble 
staircase,  with  gilded  railing,  going  up  in  great  sweeps  to 
the  regions  above  ;  and  the  warmth  coming  delightfully  up 
through  the  register  that  cold  December  night.  Before 
the  dark,  bright  eyes  behind  the  spectacles  had  done  not- 
ing all  this,  the  tall  young  man  returned,  and  behind  him 
a  tall  old  man,  with  a  handsome,  fresh-colored  face,  white 
hair  and  beard  falling  over  a  rich,  Turkish  dressing-gown 
of  many  colors,  slippers  on  feet,  smoking-cap  on  head,  a 
smile  of  cordial  welcome  on  his  lips,  and  his  hand  extended 
in  warm  greeting. 

"  My  dear  old  fellow  !  My  dear  Lance  !  what  a  pleasant 
surprise  for  Christmas  eve  !  Come  in  !  come  in  !  who  in 
the  world  would  ever  have  thought  of  seeing  you  ?  " 


■J 


n 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 


17 


\ 


The  tall  young  man  receded  into  the  background,  quite 
cowed,  and  the  little  man  suffered  his  hand  to  be  shaken, 
and  himself,  red  comforter  and  all,  to  be  drawn  in,  with 
constitutional  phlegm. 

'*  How  well  you  are  looking,  too  ;  not  the  least  changed 
since  we  parted  ten  years  ago  I  Take  off  your  hat  and 
overcoat  and  come  up-stairs.^' 

By  the  aid  of  the  tall  youDg  man,  the  visitor,  who  all 
this  time  had  spoken  never  a  word,  was  divested  of  his 
outer  garment,  and  stood  under  the  gas-jets  in  a  decent 
suit  of  black  broadcloth,  a  bald-headed,  keen-looking 
gentlenum,  of  some  forty-five  or  fifty  years. 

''This  way,  Lance,"  Mr.  Ilazelwood  said,  leading  the 
way  up  the  grand  staircase.  '•  Of  all  meii  in  the  world 
you  are  the  one  I  most  wanted  to  see,  to-night  !  What 
will  the  boys  say  at  sight  of  their  old  tutor  ?  '' 

''Are  all  your  sons  at  home,  ^Ir.  Ilazelwood  ?"  asked, 
the  visitor.     "  I  heard  some  of  them  had  gone  abroad.'.' 

"  Conway  has  ;  Conway's  inclined  to  be  a  rolling-stone, 
lam  afraid,  and  will  never  gather  much  moss.  "He  has 
made  the  grand  tour — come  right  in  this  way,  Lance — 
and  goes  moving  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other 
still,  never  long  in  one  place.  Take  a  seat.  Have  'you 
dined  ?  " 

The  little  man  pulled  out  an  old-fashioned  silver  watch, 
aiul  eyed  it  Avith  an  expression  of  sardonic  contempt  at 
such  a  question. 

"  I  dined  five  hours  ago,  at  one  o'clock,  the  time  I 
always  dine  at.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  fashionable,  Mr. 
Ilazelwood  ! " 

"  You'll  have  some  coffee  with  me,  then,"  said  Mr. 
Ilazelwood,  ringing  the  bell.  "  I  always  have  coffee  one 
hour  before  dinner." 

But  the  fastidious  little  man  wouldn't  listen  to  this, 
either. 

"I  don't  drink  coffee  so  late  in  the  evening  ;  I  consider 
it  a  pernicious  practice.  I'll  take  a  cup  of  weak  tea  and 
some  dry  toast,  if  convenient.  I  never  take  anything 
lieartier  after  six  in  the  evening." 

Mr.  Hazelwood  laughed,  a  genial,  mellow  laugh,  pleas- 
ant to  hear,  and  folded  his  gay  dressing-gown  closer 
around  him. 

"  What  an  old  anchorite  you  are,  Lance  !     We  used  to 


tJ 


i8 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I 


call  you  Diogenes,  at  school,  and  I  find  you  are  Diogenes 
yet  !  " 

"  And  you  Alexander,  I  suppose ! "  said  the  small 
gentleman,  looking  around  him,  cynically.  **  The  world 
seems  to  have  gone  well  with  you  in  the  lapse  of  years." 

If  one  might  Judge  by  Mr.  llazelwood's  looks  and  sur- 
roundings, it  certainly  had.  The  dining-room  in  which 
they  sat  was  adorned  with  every  comfort  and  luxury  money 
could  purchase.  Brussels  carpet,  satin  curtains,  softly- 
cushioned  lounges  and  easy-chairs,  inlaid  tables,  exquisite 
pictures,  and  a  carved  sideboard  glittering  with  silver  and 
cut-glass.  In  a  steel  grate  a  bright  fire  burned  ;  for  Mr. 
Hazelwood,  despite  his  furnace,  insisted  on  a  fire  the  whole 
winter  through.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  as  well  as  feel  the 
heat ;  pleasant,  too,  to  watch  the  bright,  red  cinders,  and 
dream  over  the  pictures  therein.  The  two  men  sat  oppo- 
site each  other,  in  two  carved  and  cushioned  armchairs, 
and  formed  a  striking  contrast.  The  one  with  his  fresh, 
florid  complexion  ;  his  tall,  upright  figure  wrapped  in  the 
gay  dressing-gown ;  his  snow-white  hair  and  beard  giving 
iiim  the  look  of  an  old-time  patriarch  ;  his  kindly  eye,  and 
smile,  and  voice  ;  the  other  with  Ids  thin,  keen,  brown 
face,  his  sluirp,  sardonic  eye,  his  compressed,  cynical 
mouth,  his  small,  wiry  figure,  and  quick,  sharp,  impera- 
tive tones.  Yet  they  were  friends,  had  been  friends  in 
boyhood,  in  youth,  in  nriuhood  ;  and  now,  when  falling 
into  the  sere  and  yellow  lenf,  attached  friends  still, 

Mr.  Hazelwood  was  some  ten  years  the  elder,  and  his 
three  sons  had  been  partially  educated  uiuler  the  super- 
vision of  Professor  Lance  ;  for  a  professor  he  was — Pro- 
fessor of  Mathematics  and  Classics  at College. 

A  servant  came  to  answer  the  bell.  Mr.  Hazelwood 
ordered  tea  and  toast  for  his  friend,  and  coffee  for  himself, 
and  looked  thoughtfully  in  the  fire  as  he  replied  to  the 
last  remark. 

'^  Yes  ;  the  world  has  gone  well  with  me.  Doctor  Lance. 
I  have  been  prospered  beyond  my  deserts  ;  I  am  not  a 
wealthy  man,  but  I  have  enough  for  all  my  wants,  and 
something  to  leave  my  boys  when  I  go.  I  liave  nothing 
to  trouble  me  ;  a  light  heart  and  easy  conscience,  I  hope, 
smooth  the  downward  path  to  the  grave.  Thank  Heaven 
for  the  blessings  I  enjoy  !  " 

He  raised  his  velvet  cap  reverently  as  he  spoke. 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 


19 


)} 


Doctor  Lance  sliglitly  glanced  up  at  the  picture  over 
the  mai\tel — a  portrait  of  a  pretty  woman,  witli  soft  eyes 
and  a  gentle  smile. 

''  Your  wife  is  dead,  I  liavo  lieanl." 

Mr.  Ilazelwood's  eyes  lifted  themselves  to  tlie  portrait, 
too. 

''  She  (lied  eight  years  ago.  Iler  loss  has  been  my  only 
sorrow  since  I  saw  you  last.'' 

*'  You  have  a  housekeeper  now,  I  suppose." 

'^  My  sister  is  my  housekeeper.  You  remember  Emily  ; 
don't  you.  Lance  ?  '' 

Do^^tor  Lance  winced.  Twenty  years  ago,  when  his 
phlegmatic  blood  had  been  young  and  hot,  Jeremiali  Lance 
hiul  fallen  in  love  with  the  pretty,  insipid  face  of  Emilv 
llazelwood,  and  been  refused  for  a  handsomer  man.  That 
was  the  first  and  last  folly  of  Doctor  Lance  ;  and  now  at 
fortv-five  he  was  an  old  bachelor,  readv  to  sneer  with  the 
best  iit  the  gentle  passion. 

'•  She  ran  off  with  that  graceless  scamp,  Frank  Wood, 
you  recollect,"'  said  Mr.  JIazelwood,  who  had  never  known 
of  his  friend's  little  romance;  ''and  a  pretty  time  they 
had  together,  for  thirteen  or  fourteen  years — AVood  drink- 
ing and  gambling,  and  she  following  him  over  the  country 
in  a  state  of  semi-starvation,  her  children  dying  from  her 
one  after  another  as  fast  as  they  came.  Two  years  ago, 
Wood  died  himself  in  a  drunken  fit,  leaving  Emily  and 
one  child,  a  little  girl,  penniless  and  homeless.  Of  course 
I  brought  them  hero  at  once  ;  and  here  tlu^y  have  been 
ever  since,  and  are  likely  to  be  while  I  am  above  ground. 
Susan,"  to  the  servant  who  came  in  with  the  tea  and  coffee, 
"  tell  ]\[rs.  Wood  there  is  an  old  friend  here  who  would 
like  to  see  her." 

"And  so  vour  sons  are  all  at  home,"  remarked  Doctor 
Lance,  taking  the  tea  his  frieiul  lianded  him  ;  "  gentle- 
men at  large,  I  suppose — Broadway  swells,  with  no  profes- 
sion ;  with  no  higher  business  in  life  to  attend  to  tluin 
their  toilet,  and  flirting  in  ball-rooms." 

Mr.  Hazeiwood,  sipping  his  coffee,  laughed  good- 
naturedly  at  the  bitter  speech. 

"  You  are  a  little  severe.  Doctor  Lance — boys  will  be 
boys,  you  know,  and  mine,  I  truFt,  are  pretty  good  boys, 
as  goodness  goes  among  the  jeirncs  genx  of  New  York. 
Conway  does  nothing,  I  must  confess,  beyond  yachting, 


: 


20 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


jiiid  ranibliiiir  up  jiiul  flow7i  tlie  world  ;  ))ut  Artliur  lias  a 
stiulio  in  ]5r();i(l\vay,  wlicrc  lie  Km()kes  cigars  and  drinks 
lager,  and  daubs  in  paint  all  day  long,  and  calls  himself 
an  artist  ;  and  Kiigene  has  taken  out  his  diploma,  and 
hung  up  his  shingle,  with  M.  I),  after  his  name,  on  the 
same  thoroughfare,  and  I  dare  say  is  licensed  to  kill  with 
the  besl." 


Doctor  Lance  grunted. 

*'  It's  exactly  like  them — the  characters  of  the  three  lie 
in  a  nutshell.  Conway  had  brains  and  never  would  use 
them  ;  Arthur  had  none  to  use,  and  Kiiii'eiie  had  them  and 


3d  th 


lie   h 


than  th 


)th 


to- 


more  sen 
gether." 

"  We  won't  quarrel  over  it,  Lance — have  another  cu}) 
of  tea  ?  They'll  be  surprised  beyond  everything  tit  sight 
of  you.  I'll  send  them  word  to  come  in  here  before  they 
go  out.  Dressing,  I  believe,  for  a  Christmas  party  at  old 
Thornton's — Una's  going,  too.  Oh,  by  the  way,  you  don't 
know  Una,  do  you  ?  " 

''  I  haven't  that  honor." 

"  To  be  sure  you  don't  know  her  I  T  have  only  had  her 
about  four  years.  Her  name  is  L^na  Forrest — an  orphan, 
poor  little  thing  !  the  daughter  of  my  wife's  only  brother. 
We  took  her  when  her  parents  died,  to  keep  her  out  of  the 
M'orkhouse,  and  she  has  been  here  ever  since.  Wait  till 
you  see  her.  Lance,  and  you'll  see  the  best  and  prettiest 
little  girl  in  New  York." 

''  Humph  !  "  remarked  Doctor  Lance,  in  his  usual  sar- 
castic accent.  "  Yours  is  a  sort  of  private  almshouse,  I 
find  ;  an  impoverished  sister  and  two  nieces — how  many 
more  are  there  ?  " 

'*  That's  all,"  said  Mr.  Hazelwood,  with  his  good- 
natured  laugh,  ''  and  nothing  would  tempt  me  to  part 
with  either  of  the  three.  Apropos  of  L^na,  I  sometimes 
think  she  and  Eugene  will  make  a  match." 

"  Don't  !  "  said  Doctor  Lance,  raising  a  warning  finger, 
"don't,  1  beg  !  Of  all  the  despicable  things  on  the  face 
of  this  earth,  a  habit  of  match-making  is  the  most 
despicable." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  I  am 
not  match-making.  I  never  thought  of  sucli  a  thing  ;  but 
I  can't  prevent  the  course  of  events.  It's  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  that  Eugene  and  L^na  should  marry. 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 


21 


] 


Tlioy'ro  cousins,  to  be  sure,  'vvbich  is  a  drawback,  but  still 
I  tbink  tbey  could  bardly  do  better/' 

**  And  wby,  pray,  sbould  Miss  Una  select  especially 
vour  younoest  son  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  several  reasons.  lie  is  nearest  ber  own  ai^'e, 
more  suitable  in  disposition  ;  and  tben,  Conw.iy,  I  fancy, 
lias  already  cbosen,  and  Artliur  is  too  lazy  to  tbink  of  any- 
liiiuir  but  STnoking  and  painting.  He  ougbt  to  be  a  (ier- 
man  student,  at  once." 

••  And  wbo  bas  Conway  bonored  by  bis  preference  ?  " 

"  A    very     pretty    girl,    Helen    'J'bornton,    one    of    tbo 
greatest  beiresses  in  tbe  city.     Come  in." 
^  Thiii  last  invitation  was  given  in  response  to  a  tap  at  tbo 

door  wbicb  opened  immediately  after,  to  admit  a  cbarm- 
iiig  visitor.  A  youtbful  angel,  of  some  fifteen  years, 
slender  and  delicate  of  figure,  as  became  ber  age,  iind 
robed  in  floating,  misty  wbite.  Tbere  was  sometbing  strik- 
ing aiivl  peculiar  about  tbe  girl — it  consisted  in  the  snowy 
whiteness  and  purity  of  her  cumplexion.  Tbe  whole  face 
was  perfectly  colorless  ;  yet  no  one  could  bave  pronoun(;ed 
her  sickly,  but  no  xVlbino  could  bave  boasted  of  a  more 
perfect  absence  of  color  in  the  skin.  Under  the  clear 
surface  you  could  trace  every  blue  vein,  and  tbe  hair,  worn 
in  profusion  of  braids,  was  of  llaxen  lightness.  The  eyes 
were  ratber  snudl,  and  of  tbe  very  palest  blue  ;  tbe  features 
small  and  pretty  ;  tbe  bands  and  feet  tiny,  and  the  manner 
self-possessed  and  easy,  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  for 
that  age  of  transition.  Her  dress  of  while  tulle,  looped 
up  witli  bands  of  pale  azure  ribbon,  was  low-necked  and 
short-sleeved  ;  and  she  wore  a  wreatb  of  blue  llowers  in 
lier  pale  bair.  All  wbite  and  azure,  no  one  could  look 
^  once  witbout  turning  to  gaze  again  on  that  singular  face. 

Every  buman  countenance,  it  is  said,  is  either  a  histoiy 
or  a  prophecy — hers  was  a  prophecy,  and  a  startling  one, 
too,  coukl  either  of  tbe  twain  looking  at  ber  have  re.-id  if^. 
Doctor  Laiice  was  evidently  sti'uck,  for  be  bent  bis  bhifk 
brows  and  fixed  ids  weird  eyes  on  ber  in  piercing  scrutiny 
ns  ]\[r.  H:i"ehvoo(l  presonte<l  ber. 

'•'  My  niece.  T^na  Forrest,  doctor.  Una,  my  denr,  my 
old  friend.  Doctor  Lance.'" 

Little  Miss  Forrest — she  was  small  of  stature — dropped 
liini  a  pretty  courtesy,  filling  tbo  air  witb  perfume  as  she 
flirted  out  ber  translucent  skirts. 


22 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


*' Will  I  do,  uncle?"  she  asked,  in  ii  sweet,  childlike 
voioo,  turning  round,  that  ho  niiglittlie  l^etter  survey  her. 
'•  1  dressed  myself  without  any  one  helping  me  at  all." 

**  Y'ou  look  as  pretty  asa  ])icture — doesn't  she,  doctor  ?" 

But  the  doctor  only  gave  a  contemptuous  grunt. 

"  J)on't  tire  yourself  dancing,  and  don't  stay  too  late. 
What  time  will  Jenkins  go  after  you  ?  " 

''Whatever  time  you  like,  uncle.  Will  two  o'clock  he 
too  late  ?  " 

"  Oil,  no — two  will  do  nicely.     Where's  your  aunt  ?  " 

"  J)own-stairs,  I  think.  1  must  find  her — she  wants  to 
see  me,  too,  hefore  1  go.''' 

"  Have  the  boys  come  down  yet  ?  '^ 

"  Ao,  sir,'^  laughed  little  Miss  Una.  "  They  take  longer 
to  dress  than  I  do  !     AVhy,  what's  that  ?  '* 

It  was  a  shrill  scream  from  the  hall  below.  Una  turned 
to  see  the  cause,  and  ran  against  Susan,  the  chambermiiid, 
flying  in,  with  eyes  aiul  mouth  wide  open,  and  conster- 
nation in  every  feature. 

''  Oh,  Miss  Una  !  Oh,  Mr.  llazehvood  !  Come  and  see 
what's  in  the  hall  !     Oh,  do  come — quick  I  " 

"  What's  in  the  hall,  Susan  ?"  asked  Una  ;  but  Susan, 
in  a  wild  state  of  excitement,  only  ran  headlong  down- 
stairs, reiterating  her  entreaty  to  come  quick. 

Una  ran  after  her,  and  the  two  gentlemen,  rather 
startled,  followed,  a  little  less  quickly.  The  sight  that 
greeted  them  was  not  very  startling,  though,  after  all. 
Directly  under  the  blaze  of  the  gas-jets,  two  little  children 
stood,  tiny  creatures  of  very  little  over  a  year,  apparently  ; 
their  small  figures  draped  in  little  fur  cloaks,  and  scarlet 
woolen  hoods  on  their  heads.  But  the  faces  under  the 
lioods  were  of  exquisite  beauty,  rose-cheeked,  black-eyed, 
and  cherry-moutliod,  and  an  exuberance  of  black  ringlets 
fell  over  the  fur  tippets. 

The  babies  were  twins,  and  the  pretty  faces  were  so 
much  alike  that  it  v/as  impossible  to  tell  the  smallest  dif- 
ference between  them.  There  tliey  stood,  gazing  around 
them  out  of  their  large  black  eves,  evidentlv  as  much  as- 
tonislied  as  to  how  they  got  there  as  those  who  stood  in 
ajuazement  looking  at  them. 

Una  uttered  an  exclanuition,  Mr.  llazehvood  uttered 
another.  Dr.  Lance  took  off  his  spectacles  and  wiped  them, 
to  be  sure  his  eyes  were  not  deceiving  him. 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 


23 


No  ;  it  was  no  optical  delusion.  Tlierc  the  cbildrcu 
were  ;  and  wlioro  tliev  liad  come  from,  and  who  tiiey  niiglifc 
be,  was  now  the  question. 

All  turned  to  Susan,  in  silent  inquiry. 

'*  I  don't  know  tlie  first  thing  about  'em,"  protested  that 
liandmaiden,  with  widelv-distended  cv'cs.  "Ten  minutes 
ago,  I  came  down-staiis,  and  tliere  wns  nothing  in  the 
hall  ;  and  live  minutes  after,  when  I  was  coming  up,  thei-e 
they  were,  as  you  see  'em.  Tlie  bell  didn't  ring  ;  there 
was  no  noise  ;  but  there  tliev  stood.  I  screamed  out,  and 
ran  up-stairs  ;  and  tiuit's  everything  I  know  about  it  !  " 

*' Ilero's  a  letter!"  cried  Una,  seizing  a  large  buff 
envelope  lying  on  the  table.  *'I{ead  it,  uncle.  rerha})S 
it  tells." 

The  letter  was  addressed  in  a  disguised  haiul  to  "  Mr. 
Hugh  llazelwood  ;"  and  that  gentleman,  in  a  bewildered 
state  of  mind,  tore  it  open  and  read  : 

''  Mil.  ITazklwood — Sir  :  These  children  are  sent  to 
you  because  you  have  the  best  right  to  take  charge  of  them. 
They  are  your  grandchilvlren  !  They  are  twins,  aiid  just 
fifteen  months  old.  I  send  them  to  vou  as  a  Christmas 
gift,  which  I  know  you  will  not  refuse.  You  will  adopt 
and  educate  them  as  your  own.  Give  them  your  own 
name,  if  you  choose;  it  is  rightfully  theirs;  but,  if  you 
prefer  it,  you  may  call  them  by  their  mother's,  Starr. 
The  one  dressed  in  blue  is  Rosamond — the  one  in  pink, 
Evangeline.  I  repeat  it,  they  are  your  grandchildren,  as 
you  will  learn  to  your  cost  should  you  attempt  to  discard 
tliem. 

'^  Yours,  respectfully, 

"  Santa  Glaus." 


-•  CHAPTER  III. 

THE    BROTHERS. 

The  quartet  stood  aghast. 

Mr.  llazelwood  had  read  the  note  aloud,  and  "  Bless 
my  soul  !  "  was  all  the  eomment  he  was  able  to  utter  in 
his  consternation. 

"  They  are  your  grandchildren,"  quoted  Doctor  Lance, 
with  malicious  emphasis.     "  Remember  that." 


IIm 


24 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


A  crimson  flush  of  iiiigor  and  incredulity  rose  to  thefaco 
of  the  old  gentlennin. 

''  It's  a  vile  slander  !  1  don^t  believe  a  word  of  it  I  It's 
tlie  work  of  some  infamous  being  who  has  taken  this  means 
of  securing  a  home  for  the  olfspriug  she  will  not  rear. 
Anytliing  like  the  cool  impudence  of  the  wliole  thing  I 
never  heard  of  I  Christmas  gift,  indeed  I  I'll  send  tliem 
to  the  almshouse  to-morrow.  Santa  Clans,  whoever  he  or 
she  may  be,  will  lind  Mr.  Hugii  ilazelwood  is  not  quite 
such  a  fool  as  they  take  him  to  be  ! " 

Sucli  an  outburst  on  the  part  of  even-tempered,  good- 
luitured  Mr.  Ilazelwood  was  even  more  exti'aordinar}'"  than 
the  mysterious  apparition  of  the  children. 

Doctor  Lance  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  scrutinized 
tiie  two  little  faces  through  his  si)ectacles. 

"  Black  eyes,  black  hair,  fresh  complexion,  and  good 
features  —all  characteristics  of  the  Ilazelwoods  !  Upon 
my  word,  I  begin  to  think  there  is  some  truth  in  the  letter, 
after  all  ! " 

"•  Lance  I "' 

jMr.  Ilazelwood  was  breaking  out  in  a  high  state  of 
temper ;  but  Doctor  Lance  only  pointed  with  composure 
to  the  two  little  creatures. 

"  I^ook  for  yourself,  then  !  Take  of  their  mufflers  and 
see  if  I  am  not  right." 

Una  obeyed  the  command  at  once  by  undoing  the  fur 
cloaks  and  scarlet  hoods  ;  and  the  twins  emerged  at  once 
from  caterpillars,  so  to  speak,  into  brightest  butterflies. 

Their  dress  was  of  the  richest  texture  and  most  fashion- 
able make  ;  everything  tliey  wore  showing  plainly  that 
money  had  not  been  spared  in  iheir  outfit.  Tiie  one  fli'st 
nmlressed  wore  a  sliort  frill  dress  of  blue  silk  ;  the  other, 
pink;  the  short  sleeves  and  low  corsage  trimmed  with 
ermine,  necklaces  of  cor.il  and  gold  around  their  plump 
throats,  fancy  boots,  with  shining  buttons,  on  their  feet, 
richly-embroidered  underclothes  peeping  out  beneath  the 
silken  skirts,  and  their  profuse  jetty  ringlets  falling  nearly 
to  their  waists. 

A  prettier  tableau  tluin  they  made  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  And,  as  they  stood  side  by  side,  looking 
rouiul  them  with  great  shining,  wondering  eyes. 

Una  and  Susau,  woman-like,  uttered  simultaneous 
exclamations  of  delight. 


THE  BROTHERS. 


25 


Mr.  Ilazelwood  melted  at  once  ;  and  even  the  cvnical 
little  professor,  who  believed  all  beauty  to  be  a  fleetinf>- 
show  and  delusion,  was  betrayed  into  something  like  a 
glance  of  admiration. 

"  Oh,  what  pretty  little  things  !  "  was  Una's  cry.  ^'  Oh, 
Uncle  Hugh  I  ain't  tliey  sweet  ?  " 

''  I  wish  they  had  taken  their  sweetness  somewhere 
else  !  "  growled  Uncle  Hugh,  in  a  subdued  tone,  however. 
"  They're  pretty  enough  ;  but  what  am  I  to  do  with  them. 
I  want  to  know  ?     I  say  :  can  they  speak  ?  " 

''  AVhat's  your  name,  dear  ?  "  Una  asked,  taking  the 
little  hand  of  the  blue  twin  and  caressing  the  pretty  curls. 

The  two  cliildren  turned  their  black  eyes  on  Una's  pale 
face,  and  only  stared  in  reply. 

"  Tell  me  your  name,"  persisted  the  young  lady. 
*'  Can't  you  spoak  ?     Wliat's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Rosie,"  answered  the  little  one  in  a  sweet,  infantile 
lisp. 

"  Rosie  what?"  asked  Una,  encouraged. 

"  Rosie,"'  repeated  the  blue  twin,  still  staring  hard  at 
her  interlocutor. 

"  Aiul  where  do  you  come  from,  Rosie  ?  " 

Una  hesitated,  still  toying  with  the  long  curls. 

But  Miss  Rosie  had  exhausted  her  command  of  the 
speech  of  Albion  in  that  one  word;  and  the  pink  twin, 
whose  eyes  had  been  attracted  by  the  wreath  in  Una's  hair, 
here  made  a  sudden  grab  at  it  and  tore  it  from  her  head. 

Susan  screamed,  and  Una  rose  up. 

''  You  little  monkey  !  You  have  hands,  if  you  have  no 
tongue.     What  do  they  call  you  ?  " 

*'  8ee,  Rosie  !  Sco,  Rosie"^! "  the  pink  twin  cried,  with 
a  gleeful  laugh,  holding  up  the  flowers  in  triumph. 

'"■'  Oh,  she  can  speak,  too  !  You're  Evangeline — ain't 
you,  jMiss?"  inquired  ^Mr.  Ilazelwood,  lifting  the  pretty 
cul|)rit  up  in  his  arms. 

But  JMi^s  Evangolino,  averse,  i)erha})s,  to  this  summary 
mode  of  s(>izure,  set  u[)  a  prolonged  yell,  1)y  way  oL'  reply, 
and  struggled  to  get  free.  Mr.  Ilazelwood  put  her  pre- 
cipitately down  again. 

"  I'll  answer  for  the  strength  of  your  lungs,  anyway, 
my  little  virago  !  What  under  lieaven  am  I  to  do  about 
this,  Lance  ?" 

**  You  had  better  consult  your  sons  on  the  subject." 


26 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


"  Stuff  and  noiisoTise  !  Yon  don't  seriously  mean  to 
say  you  believe  the  infamous  slander  contained  in  this  vile 
anonymous  letter  ?" 

''  1  believe  in  the  evidence  of  my  senses  !  Look  at  the 
faces  of  these  infants,  and  see  if  they  are  not  Ilazcl  woods." 

'•  Una  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Hazel  wood,  strugs^ling  to 
repress  his  rising  indignation,  **  go  up-stairs  and  request 
your  cousins  to  come  down  at  once.  Their  own  lips  shall 
deny  or  confirm  the  charge.     Susan,  you  may  go.' 

"  Do  you  really  imagine  for  a  moment.  ]\Ir.  Hazel  wood," 
sneered  Doctor  Lancje,  '•  tluit  either  of  tliose  young  gentle- 
men will  plead  guilty  to  any  })roprietorship  in  these  two 
young  ladies  !  Why,  the  greatest  of  criminals  answers 
•  not  guilty  '  when  the  ju(l<';e  goes  through  the  formula." 

Mr.  Hazel  wood,  his  usually  serene  face  very  red,  drew 
himself  stilTly  up. 

*•'  My  boys  know  how  to  tell  tlie  truth,  Doctor  Lance, 
poor  as  your  opinion  of  them  is.  You  may  believe  them 
or  not,  as  you  })lease,  ami  I  shall  do  the  same." 

Doctor  Lance  smiled  contemptuously,  and  still  stared 
through  his  spectacles  at  the  little  ones,  who  stood  wonder- 
fully quiet,  gazing  around  them. 

Una  had  darted  oif  to  obey  orders,  and  tlie  two  gentle- 
men were  waiting  in  silence,  when,  with  a  strong  rustling 
of  silk,  a  lady  swept  down  the  staircase,  her  ribbons 
lluttering  stormily  in  a  breeze  of  her  own  making.  A 
pretty  lady  ;  fair,  fat  and  forty  ;  her  ample  form  robed  in 
stiif  bni'k  silk,  her  black-lace  cup  adorned  with  a  plenitude 
of  black  satin  streamers  ;  a  diamond  breastpin  the  size  of  a 
small  cheese-plate,  on  her  broad  breast,  jet  eardrops  in 
her  ears,  and  jet  bracelets  on  her  plump  wrists. 

It  was  Mrs.  Wood,  with  her  brother's  florid  com- 
plexion, !ind  the  black  eyes  ami  hair  of  the  Hazelwoods. 
Her  black  evebrows  raised  very  hiii:h,  her  black  eves 
exceedingly  wide  o]ien,  her  mouth  in  the  same  state,  her 
hands  uplifted,  and  her  whole  face  full  of  utmost  con- 
sternation, she  swept  in   between  them  like  a  whii'lwind. 

*'  WHiat  is  it,  Hugh  ?  What  on  earth  it  this  ?  Where 
in  the  world  did  these  two  children  come  from  ?" 

"  That's  iust  wluit  I  want  some  one  to  tell  mvself.  Urn 
as  much  i?i  the  dark  as  you  are  !  ' 

'' Susan  s'Md  there  was  a  letter.  AVhere  is  it?  What 
does  it  say  ?  " 


THE  BROTHERS. 


27 


"  My  dear  Emily,  don't  get  in  such  a  gale  !  The  letter 
is  here  ;  but  before  you  read  it.  look  round  voii  and  see  if 
yon  can  recognize  an  old  friend  I  " 

Mrs.  Wood,  for  the  first  time,  turned  her  eyes  on 
Doctor  Lance,  who  made  her  a  grave,  still",  old-fashioned 
bow. 

"  Oh,  my  goodness  !  Doctor  Lance  !  Why,  how  do 
you  do?"'  shaking  hands  with  the  utmost  elfii.sioii. 
''  What  a  stranger  you  are  I     Wlien  did  you  come  ?  *' 

•'  Half  an  hour  ago.     1  trust  1  see  Mrs.  Wood  well  ^ "' 

"•  Very  well,  thank  you  !  And  were  on  earlh  " — ciied 
]\rrs.  Wood,  forgetting  nil  about  the  cliildron  iinmediaioly 
— '*'  have  you  been  all  these  years,  I  declare  ?  " 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  : 

''  You  are  not  the  least  changed  !  I  should  have  knov.ii 
you  anywhere.'" 

'"■  And  1  would  not  have  knov/u  you  at  all  I  "'  said 
Doctor  Lance,  in  a  tone  that  conveyed  no  coinpliinoiit. 
''  'Vcu  years  have  changed  you  sutliciently  I  "' 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  Emily  ?  He  means  to  say  yon  are 
growing  old  and  fat,"  laughed  jMr.  llazehvood.  '•  Xot 
much  trace  left  of  the  svlph-like  Emily  Hazelvvood,  eh, 
Lunce  ?  " 

Doctor  Trance  gave  a  snort  that  might  have  implied  imy- 
thing.  except  perhaps  dissent ;  and  Mrs.  Wood,  who  in- 
lierited  her  brother"s  good-nature,  shrugged  her  broad 
slioulders  and  heaved  a  little  sigh  of  resicfnatiou. 

"'  Years  improve  none  of  us,  1  am  afraid  ;  and  it's 
bettor  to  grow  stout  and  substantial  tlnin  shrink  into  the 
'  lean  and  slippered  pantaloon"  Shakespeare  or  somebody 
else  talks  about.  You  have  come  to  make  a  long  visit,  of 
course.  Doctor  Lance  ?  " 

"  lousiness  requires  my  presciu'jo  in  \ew  York  Uw  a  few 
weeks.  I  shall  stop  no  longer  than  is  absolutely  necessary, 
nuuiam  !  " 

''  '.riiat  is  too  bad  of  you.  At  all  events,  you  will  be  our 
guest  for  those  few  weeks  ?  " 

''  Of  course  he  will  I"'  exclaimed  Mr.  llazehvood.  **  He 
will  not  oifend  us  by  st()p[)ing  anywhere  else." 

"  if  such  a  tritle  oll'ends  you,  you  must  be  olTended, 
then  !  I  remain  at  the  Astor  Housti  wliile  here  !  H's  of 
no  use,  Mr.  Hazelwood,"^  raising  a  warning  finger  as  that 
gentleman  was  about  to  break  out  in  expostulation.   "  You 


I':,'i 


■M 


28 


n : 


THE   RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


ouglit  to  know  nie  well  enough  to  be  awure  coaxing  will  be 
.'I  waste  of  breath.  Show  !^[rs.  AA'ood  the  letter  and  see 
what  her  woman's  wit  makes  of  it  !  " 

!RIrs.  Wood  took  tlie  letter  and  nui  her  eve  over  it, 
setting  up  another  scream  of  consternation  at  its  close. 

"  Your  grandchildi'en  !  Did  you  hear  that,  Hugh  ? 
Good  gracious  1.10  I     Can  it  be  true  ? '' 

''Emily!  how  can  you  ask  such  a  question  ?''  Mr. 
llazelwood  sternlv  ci-iod.     Of  course,  it  can't  bo  true  ! '' 

"  But,  ilear  nie,  brother,  it's  so  odd  I  and  young  men 
are  such  a  set  !  It's  really  the  most  extraordinary  thing  I 
ever  h.eard  of  I  " 

'"  Not  so  very  extraordinary  in  this  city.  Such  things 
happen  every  day,"  said  Doctor  Lance. 

'•  Come  here,  my  dear,"  insinuated  Mrs.  Wood,  holding 
out  her  motherly  arms.  "  Come  here  and  tell  me  your 
name  I     Can  they  speak  ?" 

''  They  can  speak  enough  for  that  !  ^J'hisblue  one  calls 
liersell'  Kosie.  'I'he  pink  one  does  nothing  but  yell.  I 
took  her  up  a  moment  ago,  and  she  screamed  blue  murder  ! 
I'll  answer  for  the  strength  of  her  lungs  at  any  rate." 

"  If  there  wei'C  only  one  now,"  said  Mrs.  AVood,  thought- 
fully, "but  two  I  Such  pretty  little  ])cts,  too,  and  so 
beautifully  dressed  !     I  wonder  who  their  motlier  is  ?  " 

"  You  had  better  ask  your  nephew,"  suggested  that 
spiteful  Doctor  Lance.  "  The  whole  affair  is  absurd  and 
mvstorious  enou"ii  for  a  three-volume  novel.  Oh,  here 
comes  some  one  Avho  may  throw  some  one  light  on  the  sub- 
ject, perhaps." 

Thev  jdl  looked  round.  Una  was  coming  down-stairs 
with  a  young  gentleman  in  stylish  evening  costume — a  tall 
and  liands^ome  young  gentleman,  witli  dark,  l)right  (yns, 
black  curling  hair,  and  his  father's  })leasant  face.  It  was 
Mr.  Conwav  llazelwood — ii'raceless  Coiiwav — whom  Dr. 
Lance  remombere(l  as  head  mischief-maker  at  school, 
always  getting  into  unheard-of  scrapes,  and  always  getting 
out  again  scot  free  by  some  mysterious  sleight  of  hand  of 
his  own  ;  half  his  time  rusticated  f<n'  his  nuid  pranks  ; 
handsome  Conway,  whom  everybody  liked  for  his  laughing 
black  eyes  and  sunny  smile;  dashing  Conway,  with  whom 
young  ladies  fell  in  love  at  first  sight  ;  daring  ('omvay, 
who  ran  with  the  firemen,  and  had  risked  his  neck  a  (h'zeii 
times,  climbing  up  burning  ladders  to  save   the   lives  of 


THE  BROTHERS. 


29 


mg 


'/Am 
of 


unfortunate  forgotten  wretches  ;  gay,  eas}^  mirth-loving, 
hot-headed  Conway  llazehvood  ;  one  of  the  *' curled 
darlings  of  nature/'  the  pride  of  his  father's  heart,  who 
came  running  down-stairs  now  Avith  eager  face  and  out- 
stretched liand  : 

''  Doctor  Lance,  by  all  that's  glorious  !  ]\rerry  Christ- 
mas, doctor  I  It's  ages  ago  since  I've  seen  you,  aiul  how 
lias  the  world  been  using  you  all  tliis  time  ?" 

'*  1  have  nothing  to  complain  of  since  I  got  rid  of  Mr. 
Conway  llazehvood,"  replied  the  little  doctor,  jerking 
away  his  hand  from  Conway's  enthusiastic  grasp  ;  **  what 
pranks  have  vou  been  up  to  latelv,  young  man  ?  Look 
there  ! "         " 

Conway  looked  and  gave  a  shrill  whistle  of  surprise. 

"  Two  babies  !  You  never  mean  to  say,  Doctor  Lance, 
you  have  taken  to  matrimony  in  your  old  age  I  By  Jove  ! 
they're  your  very  image  I" 

"Well  done,  Conway  I '^  cried  his  father,  laughing, 
while  the  little  doctor  turned  his  fiery  eyes  wrathful ly  011 
the  speaker. 

"  ko,  sir  !  don't  try  to  shift  the  burden  of  your  own 
evil-doing  on  other  shoulders  !  They  are  not  like  me,  but 
they  are  like  Conway  llazehvood  I  " 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  sir  !  The  little  ones 
are  uncommonly  pretty.  I  say,  father,  what  tale  of 
woiuler  is  this  Una  tells  me  about  ? — these  two  little  items 
being  found  in  the  hall." 

"  I  know  nothing  more  about  it  than  Una  does.  Where 
are  the  rest  ?  " 

'^  Coming,  sir,"  answered  Una. 

And  as  she  spoke,  the  two  younger  sons  of  ^Iv.  Hazel- 
wood  made  their  appearance,  coming  down-stairs. 

Plxcept  that  both  were  well-dressed  and  of  gentlemantly 
bearing,  there  was  not  the  slightest  trace  of  resembhince 
between  the  brothers.  Arthur  was  tall  like  Conway,  but 
much  slighter  ;  with  fair,  delicate  features  like  a  girl ; 
large  light-blue  eyes,  something  like  Una's;  light-brown 
hair,  worn  long  on  his  neck  ;  an  irresolute,  undecided 
mouth,  and  altogether  an  effeminate  appearance.  Languid 
and  listless,  slow  and  lazy,  a  carpet-knight  in  every  sense 
of  the  phrase  ;  very  little  of  the  stout  old  Hazelwood  blood 
had  descended  to  him.  He  looked  like  the  fair-haired 
woman  whose  portrait  hung  in  the   dining-room ;  he  in- 


i 

I 


I 


30 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


herited  his  nature  from  her  as  well  as  his  looks,  and  had 
been  lier  pet  and  favorite  all  her  life.  Yonug  ladies  who 
visited  his  luxurious  studio,  where  he  lounged  in  velvet 
slippers  and  cap,  and  Oriental  dressing-gown  ;  smoking 
ciuar.s  and  painting  charming  liule  landscapes  in  the 
Chiude  Lorraine  style,  with  romantic  milkmaids  in  short 
rod  ])otticoats  and  pails  on  their  heads,  pronounced  him 
the  incarnation  of  the  adjective  "  sweet/' <'i  id  went  into 
raptures  over  his  melanclioly  blue  eyes  and  delicate,  in- 
sipid, characterless  features.  He  was  looking  very  well 
just  now,  gotten  up  regardless  of  expense,  and  his  blue 
eyes  wore  opened  very  wide  ii.  wonder  at  sight  of  the 
as.soinl)laiie  in  the  hall. 

As  much  unlike  his  two  elder  brothers  as  it  was  possible 
to  bo  was  Doctor  Lance's  favorite,  Eugene.  No  young 
ladios  ever  went  in  ecstasies  over  him,  or  pronounced  him 
sweot.  'VBoar,"  ''^Monster,"  "Orson,"  were  their  pet 
names  for  him,  and  no  one  knew  it  better  than  the  young 
gontleuuin  himself.  Low  of  stature  and  ratlier  inclined  to 
bo  stout,  with  a  peculiarly  short  neck  that  gave  him  the 
appearance  of  being  deformed,  he  resembled  neither  the 
t:ill,  lumdsome  PTazelwood  nor  the  effeminate  Saxon  type 
of  his  mother's  race.  But  the  dark  face  was  full  of 
character  ;  the  thin,  firm,  compressed  mouth  ;  the  large, 
well-shapod  nose  ;  the  restless,  fiery  eye;  the  broad,  i)ale 
brow  projecting  above — Intellect  was  proudly  written  on 
all.  Tlio  complexion  was  dark  to  swarthiness  ;  tlie  thick 
black  brows  meeting  over  the  nose  lent  additional  pier- 
to    the   deeply-sunken    eyes  ;   and  the   muscles 


cmgiioss 


aroumi  the  tliin,  bitter  lips  seldom  relaxed  into  a  smile. 
People  said  Conway  had  absorbed  all  the  beauty  and  Eugene 
all  tlie  brains  of  the  family  ;  and  Conway  was  petted  and 
caressed,  and  flattered  and  spoiled  wherever  he  went,  while 
Eugene  was  praised,  and  admired,  and  shunned,  as  a  proof 
which  of  the  two  gifts  the  world  values  most.  And  Eugene, 
knowing  this,  had  grown  up  a  sort  of  Ishmacl,  with  a 
morbidly-exaggerated  sense  of  his  own  personal  defects, 
his  hand  against  every  man's,  and  most  of  all,  against  his 
tall  and  stately  brothers,  whom  he  envied  with  an  in, 
tensity  that  was  very  like  hatred.  Proud,  fiery,  sullen, 
passionate,  cruel,  and  vindictive,  he  had  one  real  admirer 
— and,  perhaps,  only  one — Doctor  Lance,  with  whom 
genius  was  the  greatest  gift  of  God,  and  who  despised  the 


THE  BROTHERS. 


31 


never-do-well  Conway  and  tlic  languul  Artlinr  with  an 
honest  heartiness  tlnit  would  have  delighted  that  stern 
lover  of  good-nature,  Doctor  Johnson. 


Una 


<*!> 


her 


V,  had   made    tli 


both 


of  the 


awai' 

arrival  of  their  foriuer  tutor  ;  and  given  them  a  hasty 
sketch  of  the  singular  apparition  of  the  twins,  so  that 
neitlier  took  them  unawares.  Eugene,  who  appreciated 
Doctor  Tiance  quite  as  much  as  tiiat  gontle?naii  did  him, 
held  out  his  hand  with  unwonted  cordiality. 

*'  Welcome  to  New  York,  doctor  !  I  am  very  glad  to 
see  you  !     What's  all  this  hubbub  about  ?  "' 

"■  These  babes  don't  belong  to  you,  doctor,"  lisped 
Arthur,  staring  languidly,  while  he  shook  hands.  '•  They're 
very  pretty  indeed.  Look  like  two  of  Correggio's  smiling 
angels." 

''  Angels  some  one  of  you  three  are  accused  of  owning," 
said  his  father.  "  Read  that  letter  aloud,  Emily,  and  let 
me  hear  what  they  have  to  say  for  themselves." 

Mrs.  Wood,  nothing  loth,  read  the  pithy  epistle  from 
beginning  to  end  ;  and  its  effect  on  the  three  brothers 
was  characteristic.  Conway  set  up  an  indecorous  laugh. 
Arthur's  face  was  the  very  picture  of  helpless  bewilder- 
ment, and  Eugene's  dark  brows  knitted  into  a  swarthy 
frown. 

''  Xow,  then,"  their  father  demanded,  watching  them 
scarchingly,   "  which  of  you  does  the  letter  mean  ?" 

''  I  should  say  it  meant  we  held  a  joint-partnership  in 
the  affair,  the  three  of  us,"  answered  laughing  Conway. 
'^  Upon  my  word,  that's  the  coolest  piece  of  composition  I 
have  heard  this  many  a  day." 

*•  By  Jove  !"  said  Arthur,  still  staring  in  helplessness, 
"  it's  the  most  astounding  thing,  isn't  it  ?  Like  a  thing 
in  a  nlav  or  a  storv — eh  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  that  tliere  is  anything  so  astounding  about 
it,"  said  Eugene,  his  black  brows  still  knitted.  "  There  are 
more  things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  you  droam  of  in 
your  simple  philosophy,  my  good  father." 

''  j>y  Ceorge  !  Eugene's  going  to  own  up  !  "  cried 
Conway,  while  every  eye  fixed  itself  on  tlie  youngest  son 
of  Mr.  Hazelwood  ;  "  still  waters  run  deep,  they  say,  and 
after  this  I  shall  believe  it  !  Let  me  be  the  first  to  em- 
brace my  niece." 

He  lifted  the  nearest  cue,  the  pink  twin,  in  his  arms  as 


32 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


he  spoke,  and  pressed  his  nuistached  month  to  its  cherry 
li[)s,  and  the  little  one,  who  had  screamed  at  a  like  act 
from  the  father,  nestled  sociably  in  the  arms  of  the  son." 

"  Young  or  old,  the  girls  like  Conway,"  laughed  his 
father  ;  "  the  little  vixens  wouldn't  look  at  me." 

''  Xature  speaks  loudly  in  the  infant  mind,"  sneered 
Eugene,  with  a  look  and  tone  of  indescribable  meaning, 
"^  it's  a  wise  child  knows  its  own  father  ?  " 

Conway's  face  flushed  indignant  red,  and  putting  down 
the  little  one  as  hastily  as  he  had  taken  her  up,  he  took  a 
step  forward  and  confronted  his  brother  ;  with  a  dan- 
gerous liiiiit  kindling  in  his  dark  eve. 

"  Speak  a  little  plainer,  Eugene;  innuendoes  are  cow- 
ardly things.     Do  you  mean  to  sa}- " 

"I  mean  to  say,'^  interrupted  Eugene,  returning  the 
fiery  glance  with  cool  contempt,  ''  that  I  believe  the  letter, 
Mr.  Conway  Hazel  wood  may  translate  this  as  best  suits 
him." 

''Don't  come  to  fisticuffs  liere,  you  two,"  drawled 
Arthur  ;  "  you'll  spoil  your  clothes  and  dishevel  your  hair, 
aiul  make  frights  of  yourselves  before  Miss  Thornton. 
By  the  way,  Una,  don't  tell  her  what  Eugene  says. 
Conwav's  cake  will  be  dough." 

'•  Which  my  dear  brother  Arthur  would  very  much 
regret,"  said  Conway,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  turning 
away  with  a  short  laugh:  ''you  always  were  a  prudent 
fellow,  Arthur,  and  I'll  take  your  advice.  Eugene  and  I 
won't  spoil  our  clothes  about  trifles  !  After  eiglit,  Una," 
pulling  out  his  watch  ;  "are  you  almost  ready  ?" 

"I  am  quite  ready,"  Uiui  answered,  but  she  lingered, 
still  looking  ;it  her  uiicle.  That  gentleman  was  staiuling 
looking  in  perplexity  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  sons, 
and  Inilf  indignantly  at  the  keen  smile  on  Doctor  Lance's 
cynical  lips. 

"Ami  have  you  nothing  to  say  to  this  charge  before 
you  go  ?"  he  inquired  ;  "  none  of  you  have  denied  it  yet." 

"  That's  very  easily  done,"  said  the  smiling  Conway  ; 
"of  course,  we  all  deny  it.  Does  the  chirography  throw 
any  light  on  the  subject,  Eugene  ?" 

Eugene  had  taken  the  letter  from  his  aunt's  hand  and 
was  examinig  it  closely.  He  folded  it  quietly  now,  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  I  think  it  does — I  think  I  have  seen  writing  like  this 


I 


THE  BROTHERS. 


33 


act 


IKl, 


}f 


(ling 


this 


IP* 


before.  It  is  well  disguised,  but  with  the  permission  of 
the  compiiny  I  will  keep  the  doeuineiit  for  a  few  days,  at 
the  end  of  which  time  1  think  I  shall  have  found  out  Jill  1 
want  to  know." 

''  God  speed  you  in  vour  search  I  Xow  be  olf  and  don 
your  wrappings — [  want  to  be  early  to-night." 

"■  Are  you  going  to  propose  to  ^liss  Thornton  ?"  asked 
Arthur. 

''No,"  said  Conway,  smiling;  *'' I  shall  wait  until  she 
lias  refused  you  first." 

"  For  shame,  Conway  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  AVood  ;  "  what 
will    Doctor    Lance   think  of   you  all,    bickering    in    this 


numner 


V  " 


**0h,  don't  mind  me,  I  beg,"  exclaimed  that  littlo 
gentleman,  in  Jiis  blandest  tones;  "I  beg  the  young 
gentlemen  will  go  on  as  usual,  and  never  mind  me." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  with  these  little  waifs,  then  ?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Hazelwood  ;  '*' I  hate  to  be  im])osed  on,  or 
to  seem  to  obey  tlie  impudent  person  who  left  them  here  ; 
but  one  hates  to  send  such  pretty  little  things  to  the 
almshouse." 

'*'  »So  they  do ;  but  if  they  were  pug-nosed,  and  red- 
haired,  and  dressed  in  tatters,  you  could  st^nd  them 
without  the  least  compunction  now,  I  dare  swear,"  said 
Doctor  Lance,  with  his  custonuiry  cynicism. 

"Oh,  don't  think  of  the  almshouse,"  said  Eugene.  "It 
never  would  do  for  the  future  lieiresses'  of  the  llazelwoods 
to  go  there.  Let  them  stay,  by  all  means.  They  will 
make  very  nice  parlor  ornaments  at  a  small  price." 

His  hat  and  overcoat  were  on  his  arms.  lie  began 
putting  the  former  on,  and  Arthur  to  follow  his  exam[)le. 

Una  came  running  down-stairs,  in  shawl  and  rigolette, 
carrying  Conway's  ;  and  Jenkins,  the  coachnum,  made  his 
appearance  to  let  them  know  the  carriage  was  waiting. 

"All  right,  Jenkins;    so  are  we,"   answered  Conway. 

Come  along,  L"na.  Yes,  father  ;  kee])  the  little  ones. 
There  is  no  telling,  as  Eugene  says,  but  they  nuiy  turn 
out  to  be  your  grandchildren,  after  all." 

His  laugh  was  puzzling,  but  there  was  no  guilt  in  his 
face. 

Arthur,  butt /ning  up  his  greatcoat,  turned  to  follow 
Conway. 

"  Are  you  not  coming  with  us,  Eugene  ? "  he  inquired, 


i\ 


34 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


seeing  Eugene  standing  watching  the  twins,  as  if  fascinated. 

"'  Xo  ;  1  jirefer  to  walk.  I  don't  doubt  but  that  Conway 
will  enjoy  tlie  drive  quite  as  well  without  me." 

Conwiiy,  staiiding  in  the  doorway,  turned  round  with  a 
smile  on  his  face,  and  the  eyes  of  the  brothers  met. 

Doctor  Lance  read  the  glance — defiance  in  the  dark 
eyes,  hatred  and  triunvph  in  the  light  ones  ! 

Then  Con  way,  still  with  that  doubtful  smile  on  his 
handsome  face,  was  gone,  and  Eugene  was  standing  like  a 
statue  gazing  at  the  children. 

"'  Loving  brothers  ! ''  Doctor  Lance  was  sneering, 
inwardly.  *'What  a  beautiful  thing  is  family  affection! 
Mr.  Conwav  had  better  t;ike  care.  1  would  rather  have  a 
sleuth-hound,  on  my  track  than  Eugene  llazelwood  ! 


}) 


CHAPTER   lY. 


THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD. 


A  LOXG  drawing-room,  handsomely  furnished,  ablaze 
with  lights,  resoujiding  with  music,  and  occupied  by  a 
crowd  of  well-dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Not  too 
large  a  crowd.  Miss  Helen  Thornton  had  too  much  good 
taste  for  that.  There  were  not  over  thirty  persons  pres- 
ent, and  all  bosom-friends  of  Miss  Thornton's.  Judging 
from  appearances,  it  was  the  most  sociable  of  sociables — 
a  sort  of  Liberty  Hall,  where  every  one  did  as  they  pleased, 
and  made  themselves  altogether  at  home.  One  group  at 
the  upper  end  had  formed  a  set,  and  were  bowing  and 
dipping  through  the  Lnnciers  ;  the  card-tables  in  the  cozy 
recesses  were  occupied  by  a  very  noisy  lot  of  elderly  ladies 
and  gentlemen  ;  further  down,  a  damsel  in  sky-blue,  with 
very  powerful  lungs,  was  seated  at  a  grand  piano,  halloo- 
ing some  shrill  operatic  gem  with  piercing  accuracy,  to 
whoever  chose  to  listen  ;  some  stood  in  little  knots  hero 
and  there,  flirting  and  laughing  ;  some  lounged  on  the 
sofas,  ])laying  wall-flower,  and  a  few  were  wandering  in 
and  out  of  a  conservatory  opening  out  of  the  drawing- 
room.  Over  all,  a  German  band,  perched  up  in  a  gilded 
gallery,    among   the   glaring  gaslights,   were    thundering 


THE  APPLE  OF  DISCORD. 


35 


forth  dance-miisic  ;  and  a  vast  Cliristnias-trco  near  the 
center  of  tlie  apartment,  ]»erfectly  diizzling  to  look  at, 
with  Santa  Chius,  gray,  withered  and  frosty,  guarding  it, 
told  what  the  festival  was  they  were  celi'l)rating. 

Standing  beside  the  Clirisniast-tree,  a  fairer '(uardian  than 
old  Santa  Claus,  flirting  with  half  a  dozen  yonng  men, 
was  a  briglit-eyed,  rose-clieeked,  piquant  litlle  lady, 
arrayed  ii\  llowing  amplitude  of  thiek  satin  under  wliite 
tulle,  blush-roses  in  her  brown  braids  and  corsage,  and  ii 
fan  sparkling  with  its  jeweled  setting  in  her  coquettish 
hand.  It  was  Miss  Helen  'J'horuton,  beauty,  belle  and 
heiress,  and  a  coquette  born.  You  couhl  see  it  in  the 
diplomatic  way  she  gave  a  smile  to  tliis  one,  a  brilliant 
gUmce  to  that,  a  speaking  droop  of  the  eyes  to  the  other, 
and  a  merry  word  to  all ;  but  any  one  interested  in  watch- 
ing her  could  have  seen  she  was  waiting  impatiently  for 
some  one  yet  to  appear.  Her  eyes  wandered  every  moment 
to  the  door  ;  and  by  and  by  her  little  foot  began  beating 
the  devil's  tattoo  on  the  carpet,  and  the  Hush  that  impa- 
tient waiting  brings  began  to  grow  hot  on  her  cheeks.  It 
grew  so  palpable  at  last,  that  one  of  the  admirers  about 
her  spoke  : 

"  Are  you  watching  for  the  Marble  Guest,  ]\riss  Thorn- 
ton, that  you  look  so  often  at  that  door  ?  Who  can  tho 
favored  one  be,  for  whose  coming  that  impatient  watch  is 
kept  ?  " 

Miss  Thornton  did  not  reply,  but  her  face  suddenly 
brightened,  and  a  quick  smile  and  flush  rose  to  her  pretty 
face.  The  waiting  look  disappeared — the  watched-for  one 
had  evidently  come. 

The  acute  gentleman  who  had  spoken  looked  round  to 
see  a  slender  little  girl,  dressed  in  white,  as  became  her 
years,  with  a  face  more  remarkable  for  its  utter  absence 
of  color  than  its  beauty,  and  a  gentlemanly  but  languid- 
looking  young  man,  sufficiently  well-looking,  with  blonde 
hair  and  complexion,  like  the  girl. 

Was  it  for  tliese  two  jVIiss  Thornton  was  waiting,  then  ? 
Hardly  ;  for  her  eyes  wandered  with  a  look  of  ex[)ectation 
once  more  to  the  door,  even  while  she  took  an  eager  step 
forward  to  greet  the  young  girl. 

''You  darling  Una!"  was  her  cry,  kissing  her  v/ith 
young  lady-like  vim.  "  Why  did  you  not  come  earlier  ? 
I  am  tired  to  death  waiting  for  you,  and  began  to  give  you 


It 


36 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I  ;■ 


11 


!  h 


lip.  llow  do  you  do,  Mr.  Ilazelwood  ?  Merry  Christmas 
to  vou  ! " 

''  You  rni^ht  treat  uU  alike,"  said  Artliur,  as  she  shook 
hands  with  liiiii.  "  I  hope  you  Inve  been  waiting  for  me, 
too  \'\ 

*'  Wi:iS  Thornton  has  been  Avaiting  for  some  one — I'll 
answer  for  that,"  said  the  young  man  who  spoke  before. 
*'  Come  along,  ilazelwood,  let's  have  a  look  at  the  dancers.'* 

'*  Are  you  two  alone  ?"  asked  Miss  Tliornton,  looking  at 
the  door  again.     '^  Where's  Eugene  and — Conway  ?" 

*' Conway's  down  in  the  cloakroom,  talking  to  your 
father,  and  Eugene  will  be  here  directly.  He  did  not 
leave  the  house  with  ns.  What  a  pretty  Christmas-tree 
that  is  ! " 

Miss  Thornton's  most  radiant  smile  was  on  her  face 
now;  what  in  this  last  speech  had  evoked  it,  she  best 
knew.  Her  jeweled  fingers  began  playing  with  the  glitter- 
ing trifles  dangling  and  scintillating  from  its  branches. 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  ?  I  had  the  greatest  time  choosing  gifts 
and  arranging  them  ever  was.     What  kept  you  so  late  ?  " 

''  Oh,  the  most  wonderful  thing  was  ever  heard  of  !  Do 
you  know  some  one  left  two  children  in  our  hall,  to- 
night ?" 

"  Two  what  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Thornton,  ojiening  her 
eyes.     *'  Two  children  1 " 

'*  Yes,  two  children,  twins,  and  the  prettiest  ever  were 
seen  !  We  don't  know  how  they  evd  came  there,  or  a 
thing  about  it.  Susan,  the  chair'bermaid,  found  them  as 
she  was  going  np-stairs." 

*'  Well,  I  declare  !  Some  poor  person,  who  was  not  able 
to  take  care  of  them,  and  knew  ho'v  good  your  uncle  is, 
did  it,  I  dare  say." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  they  can't  belong  to  a  poor  person  ;  they 
were  beautifully  dressed,  in  silks  and  furs,  and  their 
underclothes  embroidered  lovely  !  Besides,  tliere  came  a 
note  with  them — that  is  the  oddest  part  of  the  affair — 
and  what  do  you  think  was  in  it  ?" 

"  How  should    I    know  ?     Perhaps    it   told   who    they 


were 


?" 


"  Yes,  and  that  is  where  the  wonder  comes  in  !  It  told 
uncle  they  were  his  grandchildren  ! " 

'^  Wliat !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Thornton,  vividly  interested. 
*'  Y"ou  don^t  mean  to  say- 


}} 


I 


THE  APPLE  OF  DISCORD. 


17 


'J  y* 


*'  Yes,  I  do,  too  ;  and  uncle  called  down  the  boys,  find 
we  all  had  a  council  of  war  over  it  before  we  came  out. 
That's  what  detained  us  !  ^'  said  Una,  laui^liing. 

*' Oh,  my  goodness,  and  what  did  they — wliat  did 
Conway  say  ?" 

"  Well,  you  know  Conway.  He  laughed,  as  he  does  at 
everything,  and  began  nursing  them,  treating  the  whole 
thing  as  a  joke  ;  and  Arthur,  he  stared  and  said,  '  By 
Jove,'  and  Eugene  turned  as  black  as  a  thundercloud,  and 
got  into  one  of  his  tantrums.  1  do  believe  he  suspect-s 
Conway." 

"  Oh,  Una  !  "  cried  ^[iss  Thornton,  turning  crii:ison, 
*Mt  can't  be  true  ! '' 

''  Of  course  not ;  but  it  is  just  like  Kngene  to  suspect 
Conway  for  everything,     lie  is  as  jealous  as  a  Turk  I"* 

''  What  is  he  jealous  about  h  ''  asked  Miss  Thornton, 
putting  on  an  innocent  look. 

*'  Y(ni  ask  I  "  said  T'na,  significantly.  ''I  should  think 
you  know  better  than  I  do,  a  poor  simple  little  schoolgirl  !" 

They  both  laughed.  (*ertainly,  she  did  not  look  very 
simple  just  then.  ]\Iis3  Una  Forrest  was  wise  enougli  in 
her  generation. 

"  J)ut  about  the  children,"  said  Miss  Thornton,  coniinjr 
back  to  that  interesting  subject.  '*'  AVas  that  all  the  letter 
said  ?  " 

*'  It  told  their  names — Evangeline  jind  ]*osamoiul — 
pretty,  are  they  not  ?  Also  that  their  mother's  name  was 
Starr,  and  that  they  were  sent  as  a  Christmas  present  by 
yours  respectfully,  Santa  Claus.     That  was  all  !" 

"  Well,  it's  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  heard  of.  Of 
course,  the  assertion  in  the  letter  is  false  ?  Your  cousins 
denied  it  at  once,  did  they  not  ? " 

"It  was  too  absurd  to  denv.  It  was  just  a  ruse  of  the 
person  who  left  them  to  make  uncle  keep  them.  I  heard 
Conway  laughing  over  it  with  your  f;ither  down-stairs." 

"  It  takes  them  a  good  while  to  talk  it  over,  it  seems  to 
me."  snid  ^Fiss  Thornton,  rather  pettishly  ;  "  here  comes 
Arthur  back  again — what  does  he  want  ?" 

Arthur  w\anted  a  partner — there  was  going  to  be  a  waltz  ; 
would  Miss  Thornton  favor  him  with  her  hand  ?  Yes, 
Miss  Thornton  was  always  readv  for  a  waltz;  but  as  she 
was  taking  the  proffered  arm  she  suddenly  halted.  Mr. 
Thornton,  an  old  man  of  the  same  stamp  as  'Slv.  Hazel- 


38 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


entering' 


with 


wood — '^frosty    but    kindly" — was    just 
Conway  Hazel  wood. 

"  Wait  one  minute,  Mr.  Arthur,"  was  Miss  Helen's  cry  ; 
"  I  want  to  speak  to  papa." 

[fad  Mr.  (Jon way  llazelwood  not  been  with  papa,  it  is 
doubtful  wliethor  tlio  young  lady  would  have  found  it  so 
necessary  to  stop  on  tluj  verge  of  the  waltz.  The  question 
slie  had  to  ask  was  i^.ot  very  important ;  but  she  got  for 
lier  pains  a  little  tlirilling  hand-clasp  from  his  com.panion, 
and  a  glance  from  the  dark  bright  eyes  that  brought  all 
her  roses  into  play. 

"What  are  you  all  about  here  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Thorn- 
ton.    "Why  are  you  not  dancing,  Mr.  Arthur  ?" 

"I  am  going  to,  sir,  as  soon  as  Miss  Helen  is  ready." 

"  I  am  quite  ready  now.  Oh,  here  is  the  other  truant 
at  last  !  " 

Eugene  was  just  entering.  C on Avay  glanced  at  him,  and 
then  at  Miss  Tliornton  moving  away  with  Arthur. 

"  Engaged  for  the  next  quadrille  ?  IS'o  ?  Glad  to  hear 
it  !  may  I  have  the  honor  ?  " 

]\Iiss  Tliornton,  who  would  have  been  only  too  happy  to 
have  danced  through  life  with  the  sjieaker,  signified  her 
assent,  and  was  whirled  away  by  Arthur.  Half  the  people 
in  the  room  were  spinning  round  like  teetotums  ;  and  they 
floated  in  and  out  among  them,  until  tired,  and  giddy, 
and  flushed,  they  subsided  on  a  sofa.  It  was  in  a  shady 
corner,  and  Arthur,  with  the  inspiriting  music  of  the 
German  band  in  his  ears,  and  a  pretty  young  lady  beside 
him,  grew  inspired. 

"  I  like  a  nice  flirtation 

By  tho  liftlit  of  a  chandelier, 
Witli  music  to  fill  up  the  pauses, 
And  nobody  very  near," 

he  quoted.     "  N.  P.  Willis  should  be  in  my  place  now." 
"  To  flirt  with  me  !     You  forget  it  takes  two  to  nnike  a 

bargain  !     How  do  you  get  on  with  my  portrait  ?  " 

"  15ettor  than  I  ever  got  on  with  a  portrait  in  my  life  ; 

but   such  a   sitter  would   make  a   Rubens  of  tho  veriest 

dauber  tliat  ever  smeared  canvas." 

"Thank  you,  sir  !     I  was  perfectly  sure  you  would  sny 

that,"^  said  Miss  Thornton,  settling  one  of  her  bracelets 

with   inlinite   composure.     ''  You   have  made   the  same 


THE  APPLE  OF  DISCORD. 


39 


}} 


speech  to  every  young  lady  whose  face  you  liave  immor- 
talized, of  course." 

*'  IS'o — I  ulwavs  mean  what  I  sav  !  -' 

Miss  Thornton  laughed  outright — a  most  musical  and 
most  incredulous  little  peal.  Artluir  looked  at  her, 
thinking  liow  pretty,  and  graceful,  and  rich  slie  was,  and 
wluit  a  charming  tiling  it  would  be  to  carry  her  off  from 
her  host  of  admirers,  with  his  two  brothers  at  their  head. 

"  You  don't  believe  me  ?"  he  said. 

'^  Oh,  to  be  sure  I  believe  you  !  Who  could  doubt  a 
gentleman  wlio  always  means  what  he  says  ?  " 

'*  Miss  Thornton,  I  mean  more  than  that !  "Will  you 
believe  me  when  I  sav  I  love  you  ?'' 

"  Ur.  Hazel  wood  f" 

"  It  is  true,  Helen — I  do  love  you  !  ]\ray  I  venture  to 
hope  I  am  not  absolutely  hateful  to  you  ? '' 

lie  had  gone  through  the  formula  with  remarkable 
composure  for  a  man  whose  heart's  best  affections,  and  so 
on,  were  at  stake,  and  attempted  at  the  close  of  his  Inst 
speech  to  take  her  hand,  l^ut  Miss  Thornton  drew  back 
and  rose  up  precipitately. 

*' I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Arthur,  that  you  should  have 
said  this  !  I  shall  always  be  liappy  to  be  your  friend,  but 
— Oh,  here  is  your  brother  !     Pj-ay  excuse  mo." 

It  was  not  the  brother  she  wanted  ;  it  was  Eugene  who 
came  to  her  relief ;  but  slie  took  his  arm  with  an  alacrity 
not  verv  usual  with  her  sex  when  KuL'-ene  ITazelwood  was 
concerned. 

Eugene's  keen  eye  glanced  from  face  to  face,  from  the 
flushed  and  excited  countenance  of  the  girl  to  the  deeply 
mortified  one  of  his  brother,  and  sav/  at  once  what  had 
passed.  It  was  a  chni-aoleriKtic  and  striking  trait  of  tlie 
Ilazelwood  brothers  tliat  om;  of  them  never  ■wanted  any- 
thing but  the  others  were  sure  to  cast  a  cov(»tous  eye  on 
the  same.  A  look  of  determination  settled  on  the  dark  face 
of  the  younger  brother. 

'Mt  is  very  liot  here — come  into  the  conservatory  a 
moment.     You  look  flushed,  ^liss  Thornton  !" 

*'  I  have  promised  todjince  with  CV)nway,  hut  I  suppose 
I  have  a  few  minutes  to  spare,  and  it  is  rather  oppressive 
here  !  Is  that  Una  singing  *  Ijove  Not'  ?  No,  it  is  Fanny 
Grant — how  well  she  sings  it  !" 

"Love   not!   love  not!     Oil,    warning   vainly    said!'* 


! 


40 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


i      I 


Eugene  repeated  after  the  sing'er.  "  Mrs.  Norton  never 
vrote  anything  truer  in  lier  life.  It  is  an  ohl  fashion  the 
world  will  adhere  to  to  the  hist." 

Miss  Thornton  looked  at  him  an  instant  without  speak- 
ing, and  glanced  away  again  ;  but  those  piercing  eyes 
read  what  her  lips  had  not  courage  to  speak 


Yes,  j\[iss  Thornton,  I  know  how  to  love,  though  my 
dear  live  hundred  friends  will  hardly  give  me  credit  for  it. 
I  am  not  the  heartless  Orson  they  take  me  to  be,  for, 
Helen  Thornton,  I  love  you  ! '' 

]\liss  'J'hornton  absolutely  screamed — it  was  so  unex- 
pected to  her,  so  almost  shocking,  from  such  a  quarter. 

"  Is  that  the  way  young  ladies  listen  to  such  things, 
Helen?"  he  asked,  bitterly,  reading  liis  fate  at  once  in 
lier  undisguised  terror;  '"or  is  it  only  when  an  ugly 
liunchback  proposes  that  they  shriek  ?  I  repeat  it,  I  love 
you,  I  wish  to  make  you  my  wife — I  will  do  my  best  to 
make  you  happy  !  Am  I  accepted  ?  Have  the  goodness 
to  answer  me — yes  or  no." 

It  was  rather  a  savage  and  altogether  an  uncomfortable 
way  of  making  such  a  tender  proposal.  Ileltxi,  with  a 
white  face  and  startled  eyes,  looked  around  her  as  if  for 
somo  moans  of  escape,  but  Eugene  held  her  tight. 

'•  Speak  !  "  he  said,  breathing  hard,  for  he  was  of  a  most 
excitable  temperament  ;  ''  speak  !  yes  or  no  !"' 

''Oh,  Mr.  Ilazelwood,  my — oh,  please  don't  be  angry, 
but—but " 

"  You  refuse  me,  then  !     Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ilazelwood,  let  me  go  !  Oh,  Conway,  I  am 
glad  you  have  come  !  " 

The  cry  came  from  her  frightened  heart,  and  so  did  the 
eager  spring  she  made  toward  some  one  who  stepped  from 
behind  some  tall  plants.  It  was  Conway  Ilazelwood,  cool, 
easy,  nonchahint  jis  usual  ;  and  Helen,  really  exceedingly 
terrified  by  Eugene's  liery  eyes,  clung  to  him,  as  a  woman 
will  to  the  man  she  loves.  Tlu.t  little  act,  involuntary  as 
it  was,  told  her  secret.  Conway  smiled  a  little  as  he  drew 
lier  closer  to  himself. 

"I  beg  you  M'ill  excuse  me,  Eugene,"  he  said,  looking 
at  his  brother,  '''  hut  I  overheard  your  conversation  with 
Miss  Thornton.  1  could  not  help  it,  an/"  I  boi;-  you  will 
iu)t  nuike  a  scene,  as  I  see  you  are  about  to  do.  If  you 
have  anything  to  say  to  me,  wait  until  we  are  alone.     You 


THE  APPLE  OF  DISCORD. 


41 


il 


linve  startled  Hiss  Thornton  sufficiently  alreiidy.  Come, 
Jh'len,  I  have  been  searching  for  you  !" 

There  was  no  mistaking  Helen's  eager  willingness  to 
obey,  and  they  were  gone  altnost  before  Eugene  knew  it. 
He  did  not  follow  tlieni  directly.  He  stood  hv  the  window 
Conway  had  so  lately  left,  looking  out  on  the  bright;, 
fro.ity  night  and  gaslit  street.  'J'he  sounds  of  music  and 
dancing,  hiughing  and  merrymaking,  came  to  his  listening 
ears  from  the  drawing-room ;  but  how  tliese  revelers 
would  iiave  started  had  they  seen  the  black  scowl  on  his 
brow,  the  terrible  tire  in  iiis  weird  eyes  !  For  nearly  Indf 
an  hour  he  lingered  there,  brooding  over  his  own  ominous 
thoughts,  and  tlie!i  he  turned  and  walked  slowly  back  to 
the  ball-room.  The  first  he  met  were  Conway  and  Helen  ; 
the  girl  clinging  fondly  to  his  arm,  her  pretty  face  all 
aglow  with  love,  and  pride,  and  happiness  ;  ho  smiling, 
graceful,  handsomer  than  ever.  It  was  quite  plain  he  had 
been  following  the  example  of  his  two  brothers,  and  had 
mot  with  a  very  different  answer.  Helen  Thornton  had 
got  all  she  wanted,  and  was  for  the  time  being  i)erfectly 
happy.  But  perfect  happiness  in  this  world  is  a  plant  of 
very  fragile  growth,  and  seldom  lives  over  half  an  hour  at 
a  time.  As  her  eyes  fell  on  the  face  of  Eugene,  darkened 
by  a  look  that  was  almost  devilish  i.i  its  hatred  and  envy, 
she  recoiled,  as  she  had  done  before,  with  a  suppressed 
shriek.  He  spoke  to  neither,  only  glanced  at  them  for  a 
second,  and  was  gone. 

Conway  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  High  tragedy,  upon  my  honor  !  That  look  would 
make  Eugene's  fortune  on  the  stage  of  the  Bowery 
Tlieater." 

"  Oh,  Conway  !  how  can  you  laugh  ?  I  am  frightened 
to  death  of  him.      I  am  afraid  you  and  he  will  quari-el  I  " 

"  We  do  that  every  day  of  our  lives,  jtclile.  Dr.  Watts 
sings  of  brotherly  love — I  v/ish  he  were  in  our  house  for  a 
while  to  see  how  wo  prac^tise  it.^' 

''Oh,  Conway,  don't  fpiai-rel  with  him.  ^lercy,  don't! 
Promise  me  you  will  not." 

"  [  will  not  il'  I  can  help  it  ;  don't  make  me  ])romiso 
anything  more.  Come  aivl  sing  for  me,  dearest  ;  there  is 
nothing  to  wear  that  fright(Mied  face  about." 

Is  there  not?  liCt  your  bride  sing  for  you  wliile  sho 
may,  Conway  Hazel  wood,  for  her  singing  days  are  nearly 
over. 


% 


42 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE   ITAZELnOODS    AT   HOME. 


i<     i! 


It  was  after  d inner  in  Mr.  HazelwootFs.  In  tlie  pretty 
(lining-rooni,  "  curtained,  and  close,  and  warm,"  a  jriglit 
fire  burned  clieerily  ;  and  in  his  cushioned  armchair,  in 
genial  after-dinner  mood,  the  head  of  the  Hazelwoods  sat. 
To  be  genial  was  Mr.  Hugh  Ilazelvvood's  mood  at  all  times, 
but  this  evening,  in  slippers  and  srnoking-cap,  one  leg 
crossed  over  the  other,  and  the  ruddy  brightness  of  the  fire 
casting  its  warm  reflections  on  hu  face,  lie  was  looking 
even  more  genial  than  usual.  Perhaps  the  fact  of  his 
whole  family  being  assembled  around  him  had  something 
to  do  witli  his  state  of  felicity  ;  for  his  three  sons  were  pres- 
ent. A  very  uncommon  sight  i.ideed  it  was  to  see  Messieurs 
Conwjiy,  Arthur  and  Euge!io  Ilazelwood  dining  together 
at  home  ;  and  the  fact  of  their  being  there  this  particular 
evening  was  probably  owing  to  the  circumstance  of  their 
father  having  given  a  dinner-party  from  which  they  could 
not  very  well  stay  away.  The  dinner  was  over,  and  the 
guests  all  gone  now,  and  Mrs.  Wood  and  Una  had  just 
made  their  appearance  to  inquire  how  the  dinner  had  gone 
off.  _ 

"  Capitally,  Emily,"  j\Ir.  Ilazelwood  was  saying ; 
'Miothing  could  have  been  better.  The  dinner,  thanks  to 
you  aiul  the  cook,  was  perfection,  and  thawed  out  even  our 
crusty  friend  Lance.  By  the  way,  Emily,"  with  a  mellow 
little  laugh,  *Mie  used  to  be  an  old  admirer  of  yours, 
wasn't  he  ?  He's  a  rich  man  now,  and  von  a  fine  woman 
yet  ;  who  knows  what  may  come  of  this  visit,  eh  ?" 

Mrs.  AVood,  seated  in  state  in  another  armchair  opposite 
hor  brother,  her  j.mple  form  rol)tMl  in  black  silk,  stiff, 
stately,  and  rustling,  lllling  it  as  if  it  wore  made  for  her  ; 
the  firelight  and  gaslight  glistening  on  her  watch-chain, 
and  I'ound,  rosy,  good-Uiitured  face,  her  plump  white 
lumds,  cased  in  black  lace  mits,  folded  one  over  the  other 
in  her  la]),  actually  blushed  like  a  girl  of  eighteen. 
Conway,  leaning  against  the  mantel,  his  handsome  face 


THE  HAZELWOODS  AT  HOME. 


43 


flushed  with  the  heat  of  the  fire  and  his  father's  crusty  old 
port,  looked  over  at  her  witli  a  laugh. 

*'  I  thought  the  old  fellow  had  some  deeper  object  in 
coming  here  than  merely  to  renew  his  acquaintanceship 
with  the  governor.  So  lie  used  to  be  one  of  your  beaux, 
auntie  I  By  Jove  !  the  idea  of  old  Lance  in  love  is  as 
good  as  a  play  I  " 

''  Nonsense,  Conway  ;  liold  your  tongue  !  Why  shouldn't 
Dr.  Lance  full  in  love  if  he  chooses,  as  well  as  [inybody 
else  ?  *' 

"Conway  thinks,"  suid  Una,  who,  robed  in  pale  blue, 
and  looking  very  pretty,  seated  on  an  ottoman,  at  her 
uncle's  feet,  with  her  [)rofuse  light  liair  all  combed  back 
oil  her  face — "  Conway  thinks  no  one  has  a  right  to  fall 
in  love  but  himself,  and  it  has  become  a  chronic  C(imi)laint 
with  him."' 

Conway  looked  at  the  childish-looking  figure  of  the  girl 
with  an  odd  look.  *M\niat  do  you  know  about  love,  nni- 
demoiselle  ?  Little  girls  should  mind  their  hornbooks 
instead  of  talking  of  the  (jrande  pciiision.  Perhaps  you 
have  been  taking  private  lessons,  though,  from — Eugene, 
for  instance." 

Eugene,  who  sat  at  table  playing  soJilairCy  and  saying 
nothing,  looked  up  at  his  handsome  brother. 

'•'  You  would  make  the  better  teacher  of  the  two,  my 
good  brother,"  he  said.  ^'It  is  your  trade,  you  know. 
As  nature  never  creates  anything  utterly  good  for  nothing, 
the  few  brains  she  gifted  you  with  you  did  well  to  devote 
to  some  purpose,  even  though  it  bo  to  the  imbecile  one  of 
becoming  a  lady-killer.  It's  the  regular  profession  of  half 
the  kid-gloved  idiots  of  Broadway,  and  Conway  Ilazelwood 
makes  as  good  a  sim])loton  as  the  best  of  them." 

''  Xow,  you  boys,  stop  quarreling,"  intei-posod  Mrs. 
AVood.  '^  Can't  vou  be  au'reeable  for  once.  We  don't 
enjoy  your  united  society  so  often  that  you  need  fight 
when  we  are  so  blessed.  Arthur,  what  are  you  doing  ? 
Writing  love-letters  ?" 

^'Drnwing  Conway's  portrait,"  lisped  the  artist,  who 
had  been  sketching  busily  for  the  last  few  minutes. 
^'Eugene,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

•'  An  admirable  likeness,"  said  Eugene,  with  his  bitter 
smile,  and  Una  jumped  up  and  ])eeped  over  his  shoulder. 

"  \Viiut  a  shame,  Arthur  !     You  ought    to  have  your 


I 


I! 

t 


1 


i  I 


44 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


ears  boxed  !  What  do  you  hhink,  Conway  ?  he  has  drawn 
}0u  with  a  donkey's  head,  kneeling  before  a  set  of  simper- 
ing idiots,  who  are  hmgliing  at  yon  behind  their  fans ! 
Give  it  here,  Eugene,  until  I  tear  it  up/' 

The  smile  on  Conway's  fice  never  altered. 

"Don't  trouble  yourself,  Una;  it's  only  the  old  story 
of  the  fox  and  the  grapes  over  again.  I  can  afford  to  be 
magnanimous,  after  the  way  they  both  came  to  grief  the 
other  night  at  Miss  Thornton's.  How  does  it  feel  to  be 
jilted,  Eugene  ?  Was  it  you  or  Arthur  she  refused  first  ? 
Ah  !  you  feel  hurt,  do  yo;i  ?  The  old  proverb  Avhich  says  : 
'  They  laugh  l)est  who  laugh  last'  is  a  wise  one  after  all." 

Eugene's  face  turned  as  dark  as  a  thunder-cloud,  but 
Arthur  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  on  drawing 
caricatures  of  his  elder  brother.  Conway  turned  his  care- 
less, smiling  fuce  to  his  father,  who  sat  looking  uneasy 
and  distressed.  "I  have  a  piece  of  news  for  you  that  I 
think  you  will  like,  father.  You  have  been  wanting  me 
this  long  time  to  quit  my  roving  life  aud  settle  down  into 
a  sensible  man-ied  man.  I  am  about  to  take  your  advice. 
I  am  going  to  be  married." 

"  My  dear  boy,  and  to  whom  ?  " 

Conway  ran  liis  fingers  through  his  luxnriant,  curling 
hair,  and  looked  at  his  brothers  with  that  galling  smile  of 
triumph,  both  in  his  eyes  and  on  his  lips. 

*' There  is  only  one  girl  in  the  city  I  would  marry, 
father  ;  and  I  think  you  will  approve  my  choice.  She 
loves  me  and  I  love  her.  The  young  lady's  name  is  Helen 
Thorntojj." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  The  eyes  of  Conway  and 
Eugene  met  in  a  long  and  ominous  glance  ;  the  one  shin- 
ing with  that  smile  of  triumph  and  detiance,  the  otlier 
terrible  with  hatred  and  menace.  Arthur,  trying  to  look 
easy  and  indifforetit,  went  on  with  his  drawing,  but  his 
hand  shook  aJid  his  face  ilushed. 

Una's  blue  eyes  glanced  stealthily  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  she  alone  saw  the  deadly  menace  in  the  fiery  eyes  of 
FiUgene.  Mrs.  Wood,  to  whom  it  was  all  news,  opened 
iier  eyes  in  innocent  wonder,  and  Mr.  llazehvood  held  out 
his  hand  to  his  eldest  son  in  undisguised  deliglit. 

"  My  dear  Conway,  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart. 
You  could  not  have  chosen  a  bride  more  acceptable  tome, 
had  you  tried  until  doomsday.     Little  Helen  is  the  best 


I 


l- 
er 

k 

13 


THE  HAZELWOODS  AT  HOME. 


45 


it 


and  prettiest  girl  in  Xew  York,  uiid  old  Tliornton  is  worth 
a  mint  of  money.  My  dear  boy,  this  is  indeed  pleasant 
news.     When  is  the  alTair  to  come  off  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  my  marriage,  sir  ?  Very  shortly  now. 
The  precise  day  has  not  been  fixed,  but  it  will  be  within  a 
month,  at  the  furthest." 

*'  Then  it  is  all  decided.  Have  you  spoken  to  Mr. 
Thornton?" 

**  I  had  an  interview  with  him  this  morning,  sir.  He  is 
as  much  pleased  as  you  are." 

''Iso  doubt ;  how  could  he  be  otherwise,  having  such  a 
son-in-law,"  said  Eugene,  whose  face  had  turned  fearfully 
white,  though  his  voice  was  as  calm  as  ever.  "  Did  you 
tell  him,  Conway,  of  our  Christmas  present  ?  Who  knows 
but  the  mamma  of  those  interesting  babes  may  drop  in  to 
wish  you  joy  on  your  wedding-day  ?" 

'*  With  all  my  heart  I  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  see  her, 
as  any  one  should  be  to  see  his — sister-in-law  !  She  ought 
to  be  pretty  too,  judging  by  her  oifspring,  and  I  am  never 
so  happy  as  when  in  the  society  of  pretty  women.  Tell 
her  to  come,  Eugene,  by  all  means  I " 

''Now,  you  boys'."  JMrs.  Wood  once  more  shrilly  in- 
terrupted. "  Can't  you  stop  fighting  ?  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourselves,  you  two,  worrying  your  father  to 
death,  and  leading  us  all  such  a  cat-and-dog  life  !  If  Miss 
Thornton  knew  the  quarrelsome  set  you  are,  she  would 
jump  into  the  fire,  or  cut  her  right  hand  off  before  she 
ever  would  sign  her  name  Mrs.  llazelwood." 

Eugene  turned  his  dark,  bitter  face  to  his  aunt,  with  an 
ominous  smile,  j^rophetic  of  future  evil  lighting  it  still. 

'*  Eest  easy,  my  good  aunt  !  Miss  Thornton  may 
remain  ignorant  of  the  heavenly  life  of  brotherly  unity  wo 
lead  here,  and  still  never  sign  lier  name  ]\[rs.  Conway 
llazelwood.  When  there  are  two  moons  in  yonder  sky, 
my  dear  older  brother,  she  may  be  your  bride — not  before!  " 

Conway  laughed  carelessly. 

"  The  age  of  miracles  is  passed,  Eugene.  The  wedding- 
day  will  be  in  less  than  a  month  ;  and  there  is  a  wise  old 
proverb  which  tells  us  barking  dogs  seldom  bite  ! " 

"  And  there  is  another  proverb,  equally  wise,  which 
says  there  is  many  a  slip  between  the  cup  and  lip." 

"  Quite  true  !  We  may  all  die  and  be  in  our  graves 
before  that   time ;  but   unless  something    of   that   kind 


n 


46 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


occurs,  Helen  Tliornton  will  as  certainly  be  my  wife  before 
another  month,  as  that  Eugene  Hazelwood  was  jilted  by 
her  on  Christmas  eve.  ISpare  your  threats,  Eugene,  I  am 
not  afraid  of  you  ;  for  whatever  wonderful  event  stops 
our  marriage,  it  is  niost  assuredly  not  of  vour  power  to 
do  it !  "  _ 

"  Til  at  remains  to  be  seen  !  A  great  deal  meiy  happen 
in  a  montli  I  Helen  Thornton  did  refuse  me,  did  refuse 
Arthur,  and  did  accept  you  on  Christmas  eve  ;  but  it  is 
all  labor  lost.  Siie  may  not  be  my  wife.  I  would  not 
marry  her  now  if  I  could  ;  but,^'  and  he  rose  from  his  seat, 
with  a  woUish  glare  in  his  fiery  eyes,  "  l)ut,  Conway 
liazolwood,  she  never  will  be  yours  I  Do  you  hear — 
never  ! " 

The  rest  stared  aghast,  but  careless  Conway,  leaning 
negligently  against  the  mantel,  still  retained  his  provoking 
smile. 

"  Quite  tragic  that,  upon  my  word  !  What  are  you 
going  to  do,  Eugene — murder  us  both  ?  " 

There  is  many  a  true  word  spoken  in  jest !  Not  one 
there  but  remembered  that  question  so  lightly  spoken,  in 
the  terrible  after-days.  Eugene  did  not  answer,  only 
ghired  at  his  brother  in  silence,  and  in  either  eye  sat  a 
devil.  Even  languid  Arthur,  despite  the  flimsy  state  of 
all  his  emotions,  looked  rather  pale  and  startled  ;  and  Mr. 
Hazelwood  rose  from  his  chair,  white  and  stern. 

"  Boys,"  lie  said,  in  a  tone  seldom  heard  from  those 
kindly  lips,  "  no  more  of  this  !  I  command  you  by  the 
authority  of  a  father  to  never  repeat  this  scene  in  my 
])resence.  Shame  on  you,  Conway  !  It  is  well  your 
mother  is  in  her  grave  before  slie  ever  lived  to  hear  her  first- 
born, her  favorite  son,  talk  to  his  younger  brother  like 
tliis  !  Shame  on  you,  Eugene,  to  allow  your  jealousy  to 
carry  you  so  far  !  Where  is  your  boasted  wisdom  now  ? 
The  best  thing  you  both  can  do  is  to  go  to  your  rooms, 
take  your  Bibles,  and  read  the  story  of  Cain  and  Abel. 
Go  !     I  am  ashamed  of  you  both  ! " 

He  sunk  down  in  his  seat,  with  one  trembling  hand  over 
his  face.  Dark,  moody,  sullen,  Eugene  stood,  but  Conway 
was    bending    over    him    directly,    with     a    remorseful 

face. 

**  Father,  forgive  me.  I  should  have  remembered  before 
whom  I  was  speaking.    Come,  Eugene,  forget  and  forgive. 


THE  HAZELWOODS  AT  HOME. 


47 


Ir. 


to 

• 

IS, 

cr 

111 

re 

le. 


We  both  of  us  say  more  than  we  mean,  I  am  sure  !"  lie 
held  out  his  hand,  but  Eui^cne  turned  gloomily  away. 

"  So  be  it,  then,"  said  Conway  ;  "  war  or  peace,  it  is  all 
the  same  to  me,  but  J  shall  obey  you,  fatlier.  In  your 
presence  such  a  scene  shall  never  take  place  again." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  a  rosy  little  nursery- 
maid presented  herself  with  a  courtesy  to  Mrs.  Wood. 

"If  you  please,  ma'am,  I  wish  you  would  come  up  to 
the  nursery.  I  can't  get  Miss  Hazel  to  bed,  and  she  keeps 
them  twins  awake  with  her  noise,  and  1  can't  do  nothing 
with  none  of  them." 

"There's  Knglish  for  you,  Una,"  s[iid  Conway,  cliuck- 
iug  that  young  lady  under  the  chin  as  he  passed.  '"  Come 
along,  auntie,  I'll  go  with  you  to  the  nursery.  I  haven^t 
seem  '  them  twins  '  since  the  night  of  their  arrival,  and  I 
want  another  look  at  them." 

"Perfectly  natural,"  said  Eugene,  in  alow,  mocking 
voice  ;  "  who  would  wish  to  see  them  if  their  father  would 
not?" 

Conway  glanced  at  him  coolly,  no  way  daunted  by  his 
fiery  stare. 

"At  it  ngain,  my  good  brother.  I  don't  think  you  will 
stop  until  you  tempt  tue  to  thrash  you  within  an  inch  of 
your  life — a  feat  you  know  I  could  easily  accomplish  ! 
Come  along,  auntie — accept  my  arm  to  the  nurseiy  ! 
Lead  the  way,  Jane,  we  follow  !  Good-night  all,  anl 
pleasant  dreams  I  " 

"Good-night,  Conway,"  'Mr,  TLizolwood  :;;iid,  kindly. 

"Good-night,  cousin,"  I"^na  repeated,  nestling  close  to 
her  uncle's  side,  and  looking  fearfully  at  Euncne. 

Even  Arthur  wished  good-night,  but  the  younger  brother 
never  spoke  ;  no  elTigy  in  marble  could  have  stood  more 
dark  an;l  motionless  than  he.  But  handsome  (*onway 
only  smiled  at  him.  and  went  out  liumniing  the  refrain  of 
an  old  Erench  song  : 

'•  To-day  for  nie, 
To-morrow  for  tliee  ! 
But  will  that  to-uiorrow  ever  be  ?  '' 

''  And  if  ever  I  saw  tlie  old  demon  in  any  human  face," 
saul  Mrs.  Wood,  going  up-stairs,  and  speaking  in  an  tiwe- 
struck  undertone,  "  it  was  in  Eugene's  to-night.  Be 
careful,    Conway  ;  he   is   savage  anyway,  and  there  a  no 


ili 


48 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


telling  what  jealousy  may  prompt  him  to  do.  Here  \,'o 
are  at  the  nursery.  J)o  liear  the  roars  of  those  young 
ones  !  and  it's  all  my  Hazel's  fault,  for  the  twins  are  h8 
Come  in." 


good  as  gold. 


I 


CHAPTER  VI. 


TIIH     WEDDIXG-XIGIIT. 


lii 


|i    ! 


In  that  same  pleasant  room  where  the  Ilazelwood  family 
liad  been  assembled  the  night  before,  Mr.  Ilazelwood,  Ids 
sister,  and  niece  sat  at  breakfast.  A  pretty  little  bronze 
clock  on  the  numtel  was  just  chiming  eight — for  the  head 
of  the  llazelwoods  liked  early  hours — and  the  yellow  wintry 
sunshine  streaming  warmly  through  the  curtained  win- 
dows, fell  brightly  on  the  glittering  silver  and  china  ser- 
vice ;  brightly  on  the  ruddy,  kindly  face  of  ^Ir.  Hazel- 
wood  ;  brightly  on  ^Mrs.  Wood's  satin  ribbons  and  golden 
trinkets — for  Mrs.  Wood  made  a  point  of  being  alwjiys 
resplendent  to  look  at  ;  and  no  less  brightly  on  the  pale- 
gold  hair,  delicate,  white  face,  and  pretty  morning-dress 
of  blue  merino,  trimmed  with  white,  worn  by  the  half 
Albino,  Una  Forest. 

The  junior  Messrs.  Ilazelwood  were  not  there  ;  it  would 
Lave  been  most  astonishing  if  they  had  been,  and  alto- 
gether out  of  the  usual  order  of  things.  Eugene,  though 
invariably,  winter  and  summer,  up  at  five,  rarely  left  his 
room  before  eleven,  and  had  his  breakfast  sent  up  to  him 
at  ten.  Arthur  never  rose  before  nine,  and  then  lounged 
down-town  to  his  studio,  and  took  his  matinal  meal  thei-e. 
Conway,  like  Eugene,  was  an  early  bird  ;  but  he  was  off, 
according  to  custom,  for  a  breezy  morning-ride  through 
the  park,  and  might  possibly  drop  in  to  Mr.  Thornton's 
for  breakfast,  or  patronize  a  restaurant,  or  come  home  any 
hour  before  midday,  as  the  humor  took  him. 

'^^IMie  trio,  then,  at  the  breakfast-table,  had  no  need  to 
wait  for  the  three  truants,  and  went  on  drinking  their 
toast  and  eating  their  muffins  without  them,  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course. 


% 


M 


■':S? 


I 
1 


.."•So 


THE  WEDDING-NIGHT. 


49 


9- 


Mrs.  Wood,  at  tlie  head  of  tlie  table,  was  liolding  fortli 
to  her  three  auditors  with  an  energy  and  volubility  that 
made  her  round,  good-natured  face,  red  enough  at  all 
times,  ten  degrees  redder  than  ever. 

''Ami  what  ever  I'm  to  do  with  her  I  can't  tell,''  she 
was  saying.  **  I've  talked  to  her,  and  I've  whipped  her, 
and  sent  lier  to  bed  with  a  spanking  and  no  supper,  and 
it's  all  no  nse.  It's  worse  she's  getting,  instead  ot  bettor, 
and  she'll  be  the  torment  of  my  life — I  know  she  will  ! 
Why  don't  you  try  the  beefsteak,  Hugh  ?  It's  not  too 
rare. " 

"The  beefsteak's  well  enough,"  said  her  brother,  help- 
ing himself;  "  and  so  is  little  Hazel.  I  like  her  all  the 
better  for  having  a  little  life.  I  never  did  like  Solomons 
in  pinafores,  and  never  will.  Let  the  child  be  lively  and 
have  her  fling  ;  the  world  will  sober  her  soon  enough." 

"  Have  her  fling  I "  cried  Mrs.  Wood,  in  tones  of  pier- 
cing indignation.  "  That's  all  very  well  for  you  to  say, 
brother,  that  has  none  of  the  bother  ;  but  if  you  had  to 
change  her  clothes  Ave  times  a  day,  and  then  have  her 
always  looking  as  dirty  as  a  little  pig,  and  if  she  matted 
her  hair  all  in  a  bunch,  after  you  curled  it,  with  molasses- 
candy,  and  smeared  her  face  with  soot  and  mustard  till 
she  looked  like  a — like  a — "  (^Irs.  Wood  hesitated  for  a 
simile  forcible  enough)  "like  a  live  kangaroo,  after  you'd 
washed  it,  and  if  slie  screeched  and  kicked  till  she  turned 
black  in  the  face,  because  vou  wouldn't  let  her  soak  her 
slioes  in  her  soup,  perhaps  you\l  sing  another  song  than 
Met  her  have  her  fling'!  Fling,  indeed  !  It's  nothing 
but  fling  she  does  from  morning  till  night,  and  from  night 
till  morning.  Una,  pass  me  your  cup,  and  I'll  give  you 
some  more  coffee." 

Una,  looking  quietly  around,  obeyed  ;  and  Mr.  Hazel- 
wood,  quite  quenched  for  the  time  being  by  this  eloquent 
outburst,  ate  his  steak  and  toast  in  pensive  silence.  Mrs. 
AVood,  having  replenished  the  empty  cup,  let  her  feelings 
get  the  better  of  her,  and  burst  out  again  : 

"And  there's  them  twins  !  The  life  they  lead  with  that 
little  limb  is  too  horrid  to  think  of  !  She  wouldn't  leave 
a  spear  of  hair  in  their  heads,  or  an  eye  in  their  faces,  she 
wouldn't  claw  out,  if  she  had  her  way  ;  aiul  if  she  does 
not  starve  them  yet,  it  will  be  a  mercy,  for  they  never  get 
a  thing  she  doesn't  grab  from  them.     Her  fling,  indeed  I 


w. 


50 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


.i! 


ii' 


And  it's  all  Conway's  fault  ;  he  will  fetch  her  cartloads  of 
candy,  in  spite  of  every  tiling  I  can  say,  and  teach  her  to 
dance  jigs  and  double-shuftles,  and  sing  negro  songs,  and 
all  sorts  of  wickedness  ;  and  she  minds  him,  and  pays  no 
more  attention  to  me  or  Jane  than  if  we  were  two  old 
shoes  I  Let  him  wait  till  he  gets  children  of  his  own,  as  I 
tell  him,  and  see  how  he  likes  it !  But,  then,  it's  of  lio 
more  use  talking  to  Conway  than  it  is  to  Hazel — he  only 
laughs  in  your  face,  and  behaves  worse  the  next  minute 
than  ever  !     Come  in  ! " 

The  last  invitation  was  in  answer  to  a  rap  at  the  door, 
and  Susan  made  her  appearance  with  a  little  thrue-cor- 
nered  note. 

^'  It  is  for  you.  Miss  Una,"  she  said,  delivering  it  ;  "  the 
postman  has  just  gone." 

Una  tore  the  perfumed  note  open,  and  ran  over  its 
contents. 

"  Who  is  that  cocked-hat  from.  Snowbird  ?"  inquired 
Mr.  Hazel  wood  ;  "  not  a  love-letter,  I  hope  ?" 

Una  laughed. 

"  It  sounds  like  one,  uncle.  Listen,  and  I'll  read  it  to 
you." 

My  own  dear,  darlixc;  Una  : — I  suppose  Conway — 
dear,  dear  Conway — has  told  you  all  before  this.  Oli,  I 
am  jnst  the  happiest  girl  in  the  world,  and  I  want  you  to 
come  and  see  me  right  away.  You  are  to  be  bridemaid, 
you  know.  Won't  that  be  charming  ?  When  you  come, 
my  dearest,  bring  those  darling  twins  with  you,  if  possible. 
I  should  like  to  see  them,  of  all  things.  Adieu,  love.  Be 
sure  to  come  to  day  to  see 

"  Your  loving  friend,  Helen." 

"  From  JMiss  Thornton,  eh  ?  Well,  go,  of  course,  and 
take  Jane  and   the  little  ones  along.     It's  quite   natural 


I   say,   Emily," 
"  isn't  it  fortu- 


littie   Xelly   should    want  to  see   them. 

leaning  over  the  table,   his  face  all  aglow 

nate   Conwav  is  ('•oinu"   to  make  sucli   a  nialch  ?     Do  vou 

know,  now,   I  always   was  afraid  of  that  1)oy*s  gcung  and 

throwing  himself  away  on  an  opera-dancer,  or  an  actress, 

or  something  of  that  sort.    Thank  Heaven  !  his  choice  has 

fallen  on  Helen  Thornton  ! " 

"  And    it  never  would  have  fallen  on  her,"  said  Mrs. 
AYood,  shortly,  ''  you  may  depend,  only  his  two  brothers 


THE  WEDDING-NIGHT. 


51 


wanted  her.    Oli,  tlu'y're  a  precious  lot  of  'em,  fighting  for 
everytliin^r,  like  so  many  curs  over  u  bone  ! " 

Mrs.  Wood,  despite  her  good-nuture,  was  inclined  to 
use  very  forcible  language  sometimes,  and  had,  when 
roused,  a  decided  tenip^/  of  lier  own.  Keep  on  the  right 
side  of  her,  and  she  was  sweet  as  surnnier-chcrries  ;  cross 
her,  and — well,  you  must  ta'  e  the  conse(juences.  Mr. 
llazelwood,  being  a  sensibk'  man,  never  presumed  to  con- 
tradict her  at  such  times,  and  now  tinished  his  coffee  and 
arose. 

"  I  believe  I  have  some  letters  to  write  to-day.  and  it  is 
time  I  was  at  tliem.  AVliat  a  nuisance  letter-writing  is  I 
Una,  irive  mv  love  to  little  Nellv,  and  tell  her  I'll  be  down 
in  the  course  of  the  day  to  give  it  to  her  in  perso!i." 

Mr.  llazelwood  sauntered  to  tlie  library,  Mrs.  Wood 
bustled  otf  to  attend  to  her  housekeeping  duties,  and  Una 
went  up  to  the  nursery  to  tell  Jane  to  dress  the  twins  and 
liold  herself  in  readiness  to  accoinpany  her  to  Miss  Thorn- 
ton's. Tiien  she  tripped  up  to  her  own  pretty  chamber  to 
array  herse'u  in  street  costume,  and  half  an  hour  after  re- 
appeared, looking  very  fair  and  charming,  in  a  most  be- 
coming hat  with  blue  ribbons  and  white  idumes,  a  dark- 
blue  velvet  cloak  trimmed  with  white  furs,  that  set  off  her 
satin-smooth  skin  and  redundant  light  hair  to  perfection. 

"Are  you  ready,  Jane?"  she  inquired,  opening  the 
nursery  duor. 

Yes,  Jane  was  quite  ready,  and  so  were  Misses  Rosamond 
and  Evangeline.  Very  lovely  the  two  latter  young  crea- 
tures looked,  in  short  frocks  and  capes  of  rose-colored 
merino,  elaborately  braided,  their  long  black  ringlets, 
freshly  curled,  falling  from  beneath  crimson  hoods,  their 
eyes  like  black  stars,  their  cheeks  rosy  flame.  If  ow  to  tell 
one  from  the  other  seemed  a  mystery  at  first,  but  Una's 
keen  blue  eyes  were  never  at  a  loss.  She  had  discovered 
that  Evangeline  was  a  little  bit  taller,  a  little  longer  every 
way,  and  had  much  more  of  a  temper  of  her  own  than  her 
sister,  but  the  strong  likeness  puzzled  every  one  else. 
They  followed  Jane  now  down-stairs  aftei-  Una,  aiul  got 
into  a  little  carriage  that  Conway  had  sent  home  for  their 
use.  The  distaiice  to  ^Lr.  Thornton's  was  short,  the  day 
mild  and  sunshiny,  and  Una  was  a  good  walker.  As  they 
went  down  the  avenue,  every  one  tliey  met  turned  to  look 
after  the  pretty  girl  in  blue,  and  the  two  beautiful  chddreii 


52 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


ill  rose  and  crimson.  Una  retnrned  every  look  with  an 
American  girl's  cool  stare,  until  she  reached  her  friend's 
liouse.  A  servant  in  liverv  admitted  them.  Miss  Thorn- 
ton  was  at  home,  and  as  Una  was  sending  np  her  card, 
came  flying  down-stairs,  in  a  white  morning-wrapper,  and 
in  a  state  of  deliglited  excitement,  and,  catching  Miss 
Forrest  in  her  arms,  kissed  her  rapturously  a  dozen  times. 

"  You  darling  girl  !  how  good  of  you  to  come  right  away 
after  receiving  my  note  !  Oh,  Una  !  isn^t  it  ail  delightful, 
and  ain't  you  glad  ?  " 

"Very  glad,  Helen,  and  so  are  all  at  home.  Uncle 
sends  his  love,  and  says  he  will  come  to  see  you  sometime 
to-day." 

"  What  a  kind  soul  he  is  !  isn't  he,  Una  ?  Oh,  are  these 
the  twins  ?  Why,  what  a  pair  of  beauties  they  are  !  Oh, 
Una  I  they  are  perfectly  lovely  I" 

*'  Yes,  they  are  very  pretty.  Do  you  think  they  look 
like  any  one  you  have  ever  seen  ?" 

Miss  Thornton  looked  up  with  a  sly  little  laugh. 

"  They  look  like  the  Hazelwoods,  Una  !  I  begin  to  be- 
lieve that  note  after  all." 

"'  Oil,  nonsense  I  Jane,  you  can  wait  here.  Let  us  go 
up-stairs,  Helen  ;  you  can  inspect  tiie  little  ones  there  at 
your  leisure." 

Miss  Thornton,  holding  one  of  the  twins  in  her  arms, 
led  the  way  to  her  boudoir,  while  Uiui  led  the  other  by  the 
hand.  Here,  propitiated  by  slices  of  plumcake,  Miss 
Evangeline  and  Rosamond  allowed  themselves  to  be  in- 
spected without  protest. 

"Oh,  they  are  perfect  loves!"  IMiss  Thornton,  who 
was  a  little  of  the  gushing  order,  cried  rapturously. 
*'  Such  splendid  eyes,  such  beautiful  curls,  such  a  lovely 
complexion  !  Do  you  know  1  admire  brunettes  ever  so 
much  more  than  blondes  ;  don't  get  angry,  Belle  Blonde, 
at  my  saying  so." 

"  Not  I  ;  Conway  is  dark  ! " 

*'  Dear,  dear  Conway  !  Oh,  Una,  isn't  he  divinely  hand- 
some, and  won't  Fanny  May,  and  Rose  White,  and  all  the 
girls  go  mad  with  envy  when  they  hear  of  it ;  lialf  of  them 
wore  dying  for  him,  I  declare  !  " 

Una  knew  very  well  that  half  of  the  young  ladies  in  her 
seat  would  have  given  a  year  of  their  lives  to  stand  in 
Helen  Thornton's  shoes,raid  she  laughed  her  sof  t,lovv  laugh. 


4%' 


THE  WEDDING-NIGHT. 


53 


i 

I 


"  More  fools  they  ;  he  isn't  such  a  prize.  There  ;  don't 
trouble  yourself  to  get  angry,  Helen  ;  I  know  liim  better 
than  you  do.     When  is  it  to  come  off  ?  " 

"  The  wedding  !  Oh,  the  day  has  not  been  named  yet  ; 
but  it  will  be  soon,  I  suppose.  Conw!iy  is  so  impatient, 
you  know  ;  and  you,  you  dear,  darling  Una  are  to  be 
bridemaid,  first  bridemaid,  too  !  Won't  that  be  nice  ? 
One  wedding  makes  many,  they  say  ;  who  knows  but  it 
may  be  your  turn  next  ?  " 

"  Bah  I  I  am  oidya  schoolgirl  !  What  would  uncle  and 
auntie  say  if  they  heard  you  talk  like  that  ?" 

''Your  uncle  talks  like  that  himself.  Papa  says  he  in- 
tends you  for  Eugene." 

The  milk-white  skin  of  Miss  Forest  could  by  no  possi- 
bility redden,  but  there  came  a  strange  glitter  into  her 
pale  bine  eyes  at  this  allusion. 

''  Does  he  ?  Perhaps  Eugene  himself  will  have  a  word 
to  say  about  that.  Is  it  true  you  refused  him  the  night 
of  the  party  ?  " 

"Oh,  my  goodness  I"  ]\riss  Thornton  cried,  lowering 
her  voice  and  glancing  at  the  door,  as  if  she  expected  to 
see  the  dark,  gloomy  face  of  Eugene  IFazelwood  there. 
"  I  shall  never  forget  his  look  that  night,  as  longns  I  live  ! 
Oh,  Una,  1  ctin't  tell  you  how  frightened  J  a!ii  of  him  ! 
Don't  you  marry  him  for  any  one.  I  would  as  soon  nuirry 
a  wild  Indian." 

"I  won't  marry  him,"  Una  said,  quietly,  'Sand  I  am 
prett}  sure  I  will  never  be  asked.  Kosie,  you  are  soiling 
all  your  dress  with  that  cake — throw  it  away." 

Miss  IMiornton  was  instantlv  off  on  another  track,  and 
in  raptures  again. 

"  What  a  love  of  a  name  !  Rose  of  the  AVorld  and  Evan- 
geline ?  Eve-star  you  ought  to  call  her.  Oh,  wliat  piits 
they  both  are  !  Do  you  know,  Una,  when  Conway  and  I 
come  back  from  our  bridjd  tour,  I  mean  to  nuike  him  adoi)t 
them  both.  I  should  love  to  have  two  sucli  beauties  to 
dress  and  pet  !  " 

"  Perhaps,  too,  you  think,  like  Eugene,  that  Conway 
has  the  best  right  to  them." 

Helen  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  N'importe,  ma  cliere.  Tiiey  look  like  the  Ilazelwoods, 
I  tell  you  ;  anybody  with  eyes  can  see  it !     Come,  try  and 


rv. 


!| 


54 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


speak.  What's  yonr  name,  love  ?"  taking  one  of  them  in 
her  arms.     '^  Wliich  is  which,  Una  ?  " 

"  That  one  is  Evangeline  ;  she  speaks  the  plainest  of  the 
two." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  tell  them  apart !  Where  is 
your  mamma,  pet  ?" 

"  More  !  "  was  the  little  one's  answer,  like  a  female  Oliver 
Twist,  as  she  pointed  to  the  cake-plate  ;  *'  more  cake  I  " 

''No  ;  she  must  not  have  any  more,"  said  Una  ;  ''she 
will  be  sick  !  There,  send  her  home  with  Jane — she  can't 
tell  you  anytliing  about  her  mamma.  I  wish  she  could  ! 
Shall  I  ring  for  Jane  to  take  them  liome  ?" 

"  You  may  ring  if  you  like  !  I  want  you  to  go  shop- 
ping with  me  ;  I  have  got  such  lots  and  lots  of  things  to 
buy.  Oh,  my  gracious  !  I  shall  wear  white  of  course, 
Una,  and  you  had  better  wear  pink  ;  you  are  so  vciy  fair 
it  will  become  you  better  than  anything  else.  Good-by, 
darlings  ;  kiss  me  before  you  go  !  " 

The  twins,  grateful^  2)erhaps,  for  the  devoured  cake, 
kissed  the  bride-elect,  and  allowed  themselves  to  be  led  off 
bv  their  nurse. 

The  shop})ing  that  day  was  a  weighty  affair.  jMiss 
Thornton  came  back  with  the  carriage  full  of  parcels  and 
lier  ])urse  several  hundred  dollars  lighter  than  when  she 
started.  Una  staved  till  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  then 
put  on  her  hat  to  go  home. 

C'onwav  is  cominf>:  this  evening,  and  the  time  is  to  l)c 
lixed,"  was  Helen's  parting  addre:5S.  "I'll  nuike  him  tell 
you  as  soon  as  lie  goes  back  !  Good-by,  love  ;  come  back 
again  to-morrow.  I  shall  be  so  busy  I  can't  get  on  with- 
out vou." 


Una  did  not  see  Conwjiy  that 


evening. 


It  was  the  "  wee 


sma'  hours  ayont  the  twal,"  as  usual,  before  his  latchkey 
turned  in  the  lock,  and  he  went  whistling  up-f,tairs  to  bed  ; 
])ut  next  morning,  on  her  way  down  to  breakfast,  she  es- 
jiiod  his  door  ajar  and  pee])e(l  in. 

'•  Is  it  you.  Conway  ?      Il:ive  you  any  message  for  me  ?  " 

Conway,  busily  arranging  his  cravat  at  the  mirror, 
turiuMl   round. 

"  Good  morning,  Mademoiselle.  Yes,  1  believe  Helen 
sent  you  word  to  be  ready  at  three  this  at'ternoon,  to  go 
sho])ping  with  her.     8he  will  call  for  you  in  the  carriage." 

"And  when  is  the  ijreat  event  to  come  off  ?" 


« 


rv 


THE  WEDDING-NIGHT. 


55 


f> 


"  In  a  fortnight,  I  believe.  Oh,  liang  this  necktie.  I 
shall  have  to  employ  a  valet,  I  believe,  to  dress  nie  de- 
cently." 

Una  opened  her  light-blue  eyes  to  their  widest  extent. 
''  Good  gracious,  Conway  !  In  a  fori-jiight  ?  What  a 
liurry  you're  in.     Helen  cannot  get  ready  in  that  time." 

'*  Yes,  she  can.  She  doesn't  need  to  currv  all  the  drv- 
goods  in  Xew  York  with  her.  She  can  get  a  full  supply 
in  Paris." 

"  But  it's  so  sudden.     I  had  no  idea." 

"  ]S'either  had  1  ;  but  you  see,  my  dear,  '  since  it  must  be 
done,  'twere  well  'twere  done  quickly  ;'  that's  Shakespeare. 
The  reason  is,  some  friends  of  Helen  start  for  Paris  in  a 
fortnight,  and  we  want  to  go  all  together,  like  Brown's 
cows.  There,  that  tie's  fixed  to  perfection,  thanks  to 
patience  aiul  })erseverance  I  And  now  suppose  we  go  down 
and  trv  Aunt  Er.ilv's  coffee." 

A  little  after  three,  the  carriage  of  ]\Iiss  Thornton  drew 
up  before  Mr.   Kazel wood's  door,  and  Una,  all  ready  and 
Wiiitiiig,  was  handed  in,  and  the  two  young  ladies  drove  otf, 
intent  on  that  business  wherein  the  hci'.rt  of  every  woman 
dolii-liteth.     And  that  was  but  the  bef>"inninir  of  the  O'd  : 
every  dav  durino'  the  week  saw  the  same  transaction  re- 
peated,  as  ALr.  Thornton's  check-book   could  abundantly 
})r()V(^     Upholsterers,  dressmakers,  and  milliners  filled  the 
house.      Una  became  domiciled   there  altogetlier.      Miss 
Thornton  by  no  possibility  could  exist  without  her  in  such 
a  trying  time.     The  rumor  of  the  nnirriage  became  noised 
abroad,  and  Fifth  avenue  had  a   co})ious  theme   to  gossip 
about  at  its  morning-calls    and   evening-reunions.      Tiie 
course  of  true  love  was  flowing  as  smoothly  as  a  mill-dam, 
not  even  the  faintest  zephyr  to  ruflle  its  sunshiny  surface, 
not  o!ic  faint  shadow  of    the   black    cloud    gathering  so 
swiftly    and    terribly,    darkening    its   radiance.       Eugene 
llazelwood's  threats  seemed  to  have  evajiorated  into  empty 
air — tliat  young  gentleman  himself  had  disa})peared  sud- 
denly from  public  view,   had  gone  olT  on  some  wild-goose 
chase  or  other,  and  deprived  the  Empire  City  of  the  light 
of  his  countemmce  altogether.      Arthur  lounged  more  thnn 
ever  in  his  Jiroadway  studio,  smoi     i  more  cigars  ami  drank 
more  pale  sherry  than  was  good  for  him,    but    otherwise 
seemed  in  no  danger  of  injuring  his  constitution  from  be- 
ing crossed  in  love.     So  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell, 


s 


i 


t 


l'      I 


56 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


and  the  fortnight  flew  by  on  rosy  wings,  and  the  happy  day 
dawned  all  suiisliine  and  bland  breezes.  Eleven  was  the 
hour  the  bridal  party  were  to  be  at  church  ;  and  the  yellow 
January  sunshine  streaming  through  the  curtained  windows 
of  Miss  Thornton's  boudoir,  saw  the  dainty  little  clock  of 
gold  and  ebony  on  the  mantel  pointing  its  glittering  hands 
to  the  hour  of  ten.  It  saw,  too,  Helen  Thornton,  bewild- 
ering in  bridal  white,  her  bridal  veil  and  wreath  on  her 
head,  and  Una  Forest  looking  like  a  pale  rosebud  in  pink 
and  white,  at  tlie  head  of  a  bevy  of  bright- faced  bridemaids, 
similarly  attired.  They  were  all  laughing  and  chatting 
together  when  a  servant  came  to  the  door  with  a  note. 

"Forme,"  said  Helen,  in  surprise  ;  'Mvho  brought  it, 
Uny  ?  •' 

The  postman  had  brought  it,  the  girl  said  ;  and  the  brido 
tore  it  open,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  as  she  read  it. 

*'  What  a  strange  note!      Read  it,  Una." 

Una  took  it  and  read  : 

"Let  Miss  Thornton  be  in  the  conservatory  a  quarter 
after  ten  on  her  weddin<>"-morning<  and  wait  there  for  a 
visitor,  who  will  tell  her  a  secret  of  the  utmost  im])ortance. 
She  must  be  alone,  as  the  secret  is  for  no  ears  but  hers. 
Let  nothing  prevent  her  complying,  or  something  will  pre- 
vent her  marriage.  She  need  have  no  fears.  This  note 
comes  from  A  Friend." 

"  Anonvmous  !  "  said  Una.     "  What  will  von  do  ?  " 


(( 


1  should  like  to  go,"  said  Helen,  looking  iiitensely 
curious.  *'  Is  it  not  mysterious  ?  W^ho  can  it  be  from, 
and  what  can  the  secret  be  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea.  It  contahis  a  threat,  too, 
if  you  do  not  comply.  Perhaps  you  had  better  show  it  to 
your  father." 

"  Oh,  no  !  Pai)a  never  would  let  me  go,  and  my  curios- 
ity is  excited.  I'll  tell  vou — don't  say  anything  to  the 
rest  about  it,  and  I  will  go,  and  make  Lisette  keep  watch 
at  a  safe  distance.  I  would  ffive  the  world  to  know  what 
the  secret  is." 

"  Well,  if  you  think  tliere  is  no  danger  ?" 

Helen  lau"hed. 

"Danger  I  Yon  little  goose  I  in  broad  daylight,  and  in 
my  fjither's  house  !  You  run  and  find  Lisette,  and  tell  her 
to  wait  in  the  music-room,  it  overlooks  the  conservatory, 
and  I  will  go  and  see  what  comes  of  it." 


THE  WEDDING  NIGHT. 


57 


*'  You  won't  wait  loner  ? 


)> 


• 


i 


''  Xo.  If  my  mysterious  visitor  does  not  make  her  or 
his  appearance  by  luilf-past  ten,  I  will  wait  no  longer.  Be 
off  now,  while  1  go  to  the  conservatory  ;  it  is  a  quarter 
ptist  ten  now.'* 

Una  and  Helen  went  out  together,  telling  the  flock  of 
bridemaids  they  would  soon  return. 

Ten  minutes,  and  May,  the  chambernuxid,  reappeared. 

*'  Miss  Helen,  there  is  a  gentleman — why,  she  is  not 
here  I" 

'^Xo,"'  said  one  of  the  young  ladies  ;  *^  slie  has  gone 
with  Miss  I'orest  to  the  conservatory.  Has  Mr.  Hazel- 
wood  come  ?  " 

'"  Yes,  Miss,  but  it's  Mr.  Eugene,  not  Mr.  Conway  !  In 
the  conservatory.  Fll  bring  him  up  ;  he  says  he  wants  to 
see  her  on  important  matters." 

May  hastened  off,  and  Una  entered  a  few  minutes  after 
alone. 

"  Where's  Helen  ?  "  the  girls  asked.  ''  It's  half-past 
ten  !     Isn't  Mr.  Hazel  wood  come  yet  ?  " 

"  Xot  that  I  know  of.     It  is  time  enough  !  " 

"  Perhaps  something  has  happened,  and  his  brother  has 
come  here  to  tell  her  !  " 

"  His  brother  !     Is  Arthur  here  ?  " 

"  Xo.  Eugene.  He  told  the  servant  his  business  was 
ijnportant,  and  she  has  sliown  liim  into  the  conservatory. 
I  tliought  you  were  there  with  Helen." 

Una  looked  at  the  speaker. 

*'  Eugene  !     Impossible  !     Eugene  is  not  in  the  city  !  " 

"^  Perhaps  he  has  returned.  May  said  it  was  Eugene  ; 
and  she  knows  him  very  well.  Oh,  my  goodness  !  if  any 
thing  should  have  happened  !  " 

Una's  heart  suddenly  stood  still. 

All  his  threats  came  back  to  her  memory.  What  if  the 
note  came  from  him  ? 

Some  one  tapped  at  the  door.  It  was  ]\Iay,  for  the 
third  time. 

"  Old  Mr.  Ilazelwood  and  Mr.  Conway  are  down-stairs  ; 
and  jVIr.  'I'liornton  sends  his  compliments,  and  says  it  is  a 
quarter  of  eleven,  and  time  the  young  ladies  were  down- 
stairs." 

**May,"  Una  asked,  hurriedly,  ^'are  you  sure  it  is  my 
cousin  Eugene  who  is  with  Miss  Helen  in  the  conserv- 
atory ?  " 


II  u  • 


I 

1 


58 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


^'  Yes,  Miss  ;  but  he's  not  there  now.  He  is  just  gone  ; 
he  only  staid  ti  few  minutes." 

Una  turned  hastily,  and  without  a  word,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  conservatory.  Its  glass  doors  lay  wide  open, 
and  as  she  entered  slic  saw  Helen  Thornton  at  the  further 
end,  half-lying,  half-sitting  on  a  lounge,  her  face  drooped 
on  the  pillows,  her  wlnte  bridal-dress  falling  around  her 
like  a  cloud.  Her  strange  position  and  stillness  struck 
an  ominous  chill  to  the  girFs  heart. 

"  Helen  !  "  she  called. 

But  Helen  did  not  stir. 

^'  Helen  !  "  she  repeated,  drawing  nearer. 

''  But  tlic  bride  never  moved. 

There  v.-.is  a  peculiar  odor  through  the  apartment  that 
couhl  be  perceived  even  fibove  the  perfume  of  the  flowers, 
the  odor  of  bitter  almonds.  Una  noticed  it  distinctly,  as 
she  bent  over  tlie  still,  white  form. 

'"  Helen  I  Helen  !"  she  cried,  catching  her  by  the  arm. 
*'  Oh,  Helen  !  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

She  dropped  the  arm  and  recoiled  in  horror,  even  while 
she  spoke. 

No  need  to  ask  what  was  the  matter.  On  her  bridal 
morning,  in  her  bridal  robes,  Helen  Thornton  lay  before 
her — dead  ! 

Quite  dead  !  Growing  cold  already,  with  foam-crusted 
lips  and  ghastly,  distorted  face — stark  and  dead  ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  TRAGEDY  BLACKENS. 


Conway  Hazelwood,  like  a  true  lover,  never  so  happy 
as  when  in  the  presence  of  his  idol,  had  spent  his  wedding- 
eve  at  the  house  of  his  bride-elect.  It  had  been  a  very 
pleasant  evening,  and  Conway  had  stayed  late.  Una  was 
there,  and  so  were  the  three  other  pretty  bridemaids,  and 
three  or  four  young  gentlemen,  cousins  of  Helen's  ;  and 
there  had  been  music,  and  dancing,  and  singing,  and 
champagne,  and  a  little  flirting  ;  and  altogetlior,  Conway 
had  a  very  agreeable  time.  The  clocks  of  the  city  were 
striking  the  hour  of  midnight— tliat  most  solemn  of  all 
honr!=!.  the  mysterions  link,  between  night  and  day — as  he 
walked  down  Fifth  avenue  with  a  happy  glow  at  his  heart. 


m 


THE  TRAGEDY  BLACKENS. 


59 


The  night  was  mild  and  moonlit,  and,  late  as  it  was,  Con- 
way sauntered  past  his  own  home,  without  going  in.  Jle 
looked  up  at  it  as  he  went  by  ;  but  one  light  burned  in  the 
whole  front,  and  that  to  his  surprise,  came  from  the  room 
of  Eugene. 

''  Can  that  tender  younger  brother  of  mine  have  returned 
from  his  pilgrimage  ?  "  was  his  tliought ;  *'  but  no  ; "'  sup- 
pose it  is  my  worthy  au-^t,  or  one  of  our  satellites,  the 
housemaids.  I  think  I  know  what  wild-goose  chase  the 
dear  boy  has  been  en — God  speed  him  in  his  search  ! " 

lie  laughed  to  himself  and  taking  his  cigar-case  from  his 
pocket,  lit  a  weed,  and  sauntered  on  his  way. 

There  were  few  abroad  at  that  hour  on  the  aristocratic 
avenue  ;  he  met  no  one  save  a  solitary  *'  guardian  of  the 
night,"  waiulering  up  and  down  his  beat  like  an  uneasy 
ghost,  in  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons.  He  did  not  see  the 
dark  shadow  creeping  behind  him,  a  man  light  and  soft  of 
step  ;  wearing  a  long  overcoat,  a  muffler  wrapped  round 
his  throat  and  hiding  half  his  face,  a  soft  hat  with  a  broad 
brim  pulled  over  his  eyes  ;  a  man  who  had  dogged  him 
since  he  left  the  house  of  his  betrothed,  skulking  in  the 
shadow  always — treading  with  cat-like  softness — slouciliing 
under  the  sliade  of  houses,  stopping  when  he  i^lackened  his 
pace,  and  never  losing  sight  of  him  for  a  moment :  a  man 
who  followed  him  into  Broadway  when  he  entered  that 
thoroughfare,  keeping  him  ever  in  view,  and  ever  lagging 
behind  him. 

There  was  life  and  light  still  on  busy  Broadway,  though 
the  theaters  had  emptied  themselves  long  ago,  and  ])edes- 
trians  enough  were  passing  up  and  down  to  enable  the 
skulking  shadow  in  the  overcoat  to  follow  unnoticed. 
He  seemed  to  have  lost  the  wisli  to  do  so,  however  ;  for 
as  Conway  loitered  for  a  second  on  the  pavement  to  2)ro- 
duce  a  fresh  cigar,  he  came  up  and  addressed  him  : 

**  (rood-night,  sir  !  I  iiave  tlie  honor  of  speaking  to 
Mr.  Conway  Hazelwood,  have  I  not  ?  " 

Conway  turned  and  looked  at  him,  but  tlie  muffler,  the 
long  coat,  jind  slouched  hat  baffled  recognition. 

*' Y'ou  have  the  advantage  of  me,  my  good  fellow, whoever 
you  are,"  he  said  puffing  away  coolly  at  his  newly-lit  cigar. 

"'  Whicli  I  mean  to  keep — since  it  is  of  no  consequence 
to  you  to  ki^ow  who  1  am  !  To-morrow  is  your  wedding- 
day,  Mr.  Hazelwood  ?  " 


h 


I 


1    ' 

i  ; 


60 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


7) 


"  It  is.      Have  you  come  to  forbid  the  marriage  ? 

Could  careless  Conway  have  seen  the  devilish  light  that 
leaped  iuto  the  eyes  under  the  slouched  hat  attlie  question 
he  miglit  iiave  recoiled  from  it  in  horror,  fearless  as  he 
was.  lie  did  not  see  it,  however  ;  and  the  strange  man's 
voice  was  as  calm  as  his  own,  when  he  answered  : 

"  No  ;  Avith  Mr.  Ilazelwood  or  liis  marriage  I  have  noth- 
ing to  do.  I  am  merely  the  agent  and  emissary  of  {mother 
— a  friend  of  yours,  who  for  to-night  only  desires  to  re- 
main unknown.  That  friend  has  a  secret  for  your  ear,  a 
most  important  secret,  which  may  influence  your  wliole 
future  life.  That  friend  will  be  at  the  residence  of  your 
bride  to-morrow  morning  to  meet  and  tell  it  to  you.  The 
ceremony  takes  places  at  eleven  ;  at  half-past  ten,  then,  he 
desires  you  will  meet  him  in  the  conservatory  ;  at  all 
events  be  there  a  quarter  before  eleven.  It  is  a  matter  of 
life-and-death  importance  on  which  he  would  speak — it  is 
also  to  be  kept  a  })rofound  secret — you  are  to  tell  no  one 
of  this  matter  until  you  have  heard  all  to-morrow.  The 
reasons  for  this  secrecy  will  ex[)lain  themselves,  he  bids 
me  say,  when  you  have  heard  what  he  has  to  reveal." 

They  had  been  walking  on  side  by  side  all  this  time — 
the  stranger  speaking  rapidly,  and  Conway's  face  a  sight 
to  see  in  its  astonishment  and  mystification.  Now  he  took 
the  cigar  from  his  li})s  and  stopped  resolutely  on  the  side- 
walk, staring  at  the  speaker. 

"  My  most  mysterious  friend,  what  on  earth  is  all  this 
lecture  about  ?  Are  you  rehearsing  a  scene  from  the  last 
melodrama,  or  are  you  an  escaped  lunatic  ?  You  have 
been  talking  now  for  the  last  ten  minutes,  and  I  give  you 
my  word  I  was  as  wise  before  you  began  as  1  am  now  at 
the  end.  Speak  out,  man,  whoever  you  are,  if  you  have 
anything  to  say.     Who  is  this  mysterious  unknown,  and 


jj 


what  mighty  secret  is  to  bo  revealed  to  me  ? 

*''  You  will  learn  that  when  to-morrow  comes  !  I  have 
fu filled  my  task  ;  yours  is  a  very  easy  one.  Permit  me  to 
bid  you  good  night ! '' 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  friend."  said  Conway,  collaring  him 
suddenly  ;  "  you  are  a  great  deal  too  romantic  and  inter- 
esting a  personage  to  be  parted  with  so  easily.  Come, 
sir  !  off  with  that  >at,  and  let  us  see  what  manner  of  mau 
you  are  !  " 

"  You  need  not  strangle  me,  then,"  said  the  stranger, 


THE  TRAGEDY  BLACKENS. 


6r 


partially  lifting  his  hat  and  showing  Conway  a  shining 
bhick  face  beneatli.  "  I  hope  you'll  know  me  when  we 
meet  again.  Good-night,  Mr.  Hazel  wood  ;  I  wish  you  and 
your  bride  all  sorts  of  joy  I " 

With  a  sudden  etl'ort  he  jerked  himself  free,  and,  turn- 
ing round  a  corner,  disappeared. 

Conway  heard  an  aggravating  laugh  of  triumph,  and 
darted  after  him,  but  the  man  had  turned  down  a  lonely 
street,  and  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  lie  looked  up  and 
down,  but  the  street  was  lonely  and  deserted;  the  man 
was  gone. 

Conway  Hazel  wood  drew  a  long  breath  as  he  turned 
back  into  Broadway. 

''  Well  here's  an  adventure  !  Now,  if  I  were  given  to 
romance,  I  might  think  my  brain  was  a  little  turned,  and 
that  I  was  rehearsing  a  scene  from  the  '  Castle  of  Otranto* 
or  some  such  rubbish  as  that ;  but  this  is  the  nineteenth 
century  and  I  am  in  Broadway  !  It  carv't  be  Eugene  ;  it 
was  neither  his  voice  nor  figure,  but  it  may  be  some  trick 
of  his.  By  Jove  !  I've  hit  it  !  I  wonder  what  he  means 
to  do  when  he  gets  me  in  the  conservatory  ?  Blow  my 
brains  out,  probably,  though  Dr.  Lance  labors  under  the 
notion  that  I  have  none  to  blow  out.  Thank  you,  my 
dear  brother,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  taking  off  his  hat, 
*' don't  you  hope  I  may  go  there  ?" 

A  Fifth  avenue  stage  was  passing — he  hailed  it,  and  was 
set  down  at  his  own  door.  He  looked  up  at  the  window 
from  which  the  light  had  been  gleaming  when  he  went 
past  before  ;  it  burned  no  longer — the  whole  house  was 
silent  and  dark. 

Conway  let  himself  in  with  his  latchkey  and  went  noise- 
lessly up  to  his  room. 

'*  I  will  find  out  to-morrow  whether  Eugene  has  returned 
or  not,  '  was  his  last  thought  *'  now  to  sleep  and  to  dream 
of  Helen's  bright  eyes  and  to-morrow's  happiness  ! " 

To-morrow's  happiness  indeed  !  Well  for  Conway  Hazel- 
wood  he  knew  not  what  that  momentous  to-morrow  was  to 
bring,  or  his  slumbers  would  scarcely  have  been  so  peace- 
ful and  prolonged. 

His  watch  was  pointing  to  the  hour  of  nine  before  he 
opened  his  eyes  on  this  mortal  life,  and  sprung  up  in  con- 
siderable consternation. 

"Nine  o'clock,  by  George  !     I  should  have  been  up  and 


if 


il-li 


;  *^  'I 


!^ 


i 


V. 


62 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


doing  two  hours  ago.  It  will  be  after  ten  now  before  1 
iini  dressed  and  at  Helen's  !" 

Conway  was  his  own  valet,  and  taking  a  great  deal  of 
pains  with  his  toilet,  as  people  generally  do  on  their  wed- 
ding-day, it  was,  as  lie  had  predicted,  after  ten  before  the 
ceremony  of  dressing  was  completed,  and  he  lounged  out 
very  unnecessarily  handsome,  drawing  on  his  gloves  as  he 
went.     Mrs.  Wood  mot  him  in  the  hall. 

"  My  dear  Conway,  I  thought  you  were  dead,  or  had 
been  turned  into  one  of  the  Seven  Sleepers  !  Do  you  know 
it  is  fifteen  minutes  jift(;r  ten,  and  vou  are  to  be  married 
at  eleven.  But  perhaps  you  have  forgotten  you  are  to  be 
married  at  all.     You  are  given  to  forget  trifles,  you  know." 

Conway  laughed. 

*'I  came  unconunonly  near  forgetting  it,  I  allow.  Has 
Eugene  nuide  his  a})pearance  yet  ?  " 

*' Eugene  !     Why,  has  he  returned  ?" 

'*  Just  what  I  intended  asking  you.  I  saw  a  light  burn- 
ing in  his  room  last  night,  and  took  it  for  granted  he  was 
here." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  !     Just  wait  a  moment  and  I'll  see  !  " 

Eugene's  room  was  near  Conway's.  Mrs.  Wood  rapped 
at  the  door,  but  there  was  no  answer.  She  turned  the 
handle,  but  it  was  fast. 

"  lie  must  have  come.  No  one  ever  locks  his  door  but 
himself  I  I  wonder  where  he  can  have  been  this  long 
time." 

Conway  laughed  again  as  he  ran  down-stairs. 

^*  Hunting  for  last  year's  snow  !  I  hope  he  may  find.it. 
CTOod-by,  my  dear  aunt  ;  there  will  be  a  Mrs.  Hazelwood  in 
the  world  before  you  see  me  again,  and  your  good-for- 
nothing  nephew  will  be  a  sober,  sensible,  steady  married 
man." 

*' You  sober,  indeed  I"  said  Mrs.  Wood  to  herself ,  as 
his  lijindsome,  laughing  face  vanished.  *'  Married  or 
single  you  will  always  be  light-hearted,  hot-headed  Con- 
way. I  hope  the  boy  will  be  happy,  anyway,  for  he  is  the 
best  of  them  all  I " 

It  was  nearly  half-past  ten  when  the  bridegroom  entered 
the  house  of  his  bride.  Her  father  met  him  in  the  hall 
and  held  out  his  hand  with  a  smile. 

"We  were  beuinnini!;  to  think  here  that  the  ever-gallant 
Conway    Hazelwood  was  going  to  lose  his  character,  and 


i 


THE  TRAGEDY  BLACKENS. 


63 


become  like  the  bridegroom  in  tlie  song,  *  a  laggard  in  love.' 
"i3etter  late  than  never,  though.  Come  into  the  library 
and  take  a  glass  of  wine.  Yon  will  need  it  to  keep  up 
your  courage  in  the  trying  ordeal  you  are  about  to  pass 
tlirough," 

*'  An  ordeal  without  which  life  would  not  be  worth  hav- 
ing," laughed  Conway. 

"  Helen,  I  suppose,  is  invisible." 

*'  For  the  next  twenty  minutes,  yes.  There  is  a  crowd 
up-stairs  in  the  drawing-room,  and  she  is  in  the  hands  of 
her  bridemuids.  By  the  way,  where  is  Arthur — very  odd 
he  is  not  here  ! " 

Conway  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

*•' Lounging  in  his  atvlier,  as  usual.  The  fellow  is  the 
verv  incarnation  of  laziness,  like  the  rest  of  his  Bohemian 
tribe." 

*'  Too  bud  both  he  and  Eugene  should  be  absent ;  it  looks 
strange  on  such  an  occasion.     "Where  did  you  say  Eugene 


was 


V  " 


"  I  did  not  say  he  was  anywhere,  my  dear  sir,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  I  don't  know  I  One  might  as  well  try 
to  account  for  the  erraticness  of  a  comet,  as  for  that  of  my 
worth v  vouusrer  brother." 

"•  Eccentric  !  always  was,  always  will  be,  but  uncom- 
monly clever,  smartest  of  the  lot — begging  your  pardon, 
Conway  !  Ten  minutes  to  eleven — how  tlie  minutes  are 
Hying  !  Come  up  to  the  drawing-room,  my  boy  ;  the  bride 
and  her  attendant  nymphs  will  b;.;  tliere  directly." 

"My  father  is  here,  1  suppose  ?"  Conway  asked,  fol- 
lowing him  up-stairs. 

"  Your  father  came  half  an —     Ah  I  what  is  that  ?  " 

It  was  a  wild,  shrill  shriek  from  the  conservatory — a 
girl's  frightened  cry.  Again  it  was  re})eated,  and  both 
stood  still  in  wonder  in  the  hall.  Once  more,  wilder, 
shriller  the  shriek  was  heard,  and  then  a  hgure  in  rosy 
gauze  came  living  along  the  hall,  rending  the  air  with 
piercing  screams. 

Conway  caught  the  flying  figure  by  the  arm  : 

**'  Una  I  have  you  gone  crazy  ?  What  is  the  matter  ? 
Has  any  one  fainted  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Conway  !  Oh,  Conway  !  "  was  all  Una  could  cry, 
her  eyes  wild  with  horror,  her  whole  figure  quivering  and 
thrilling  like  au  aspen  leaf. 


111 


f]^' 


64 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


' 


;r    1' 


I 


'! 


:^j! 


**  Miss  Forest !  Good  Heavens  !  what  has  happened  ?" 
Mr.  Tliorntou  gasped.  ^MVhere  is  Helen?  has  ui'v- 
thing " 

lie  stopped  ;  for  Una,  clinging  to  her  cousin,  burst  into 
a  wild  fit  of  liysterical  sobs.  The  drawing-room  door  flew 
open,  and  a  startled  crowd  poured  out  ;  the  brideniaids, 
in  curiosity  and  consternation,  came  flocking  around  her; 
the  servants  from  below  were  coming  u])  to  learn  tlie  cause 
of  the  commotion.  Every  eye  was  fixed  on  Una  Forrest, 
whose  hysterical  sobs  alone  broke  the  startling  still- 
ness. 

Conway,  very  pale  with  some  nameless  dread,  caught 
both  her  slender  wrists  in  his  hands,  and  looked  steadily 
into  her  eyes.  That  concentrated  and  powerful  glance 
mesmerized  the  girl  into  calmness. 

**Una,  speak  out  !     What  is  the  matter  ?" 

'*  Helen  is  not  here,"  Helen's  father  said.  '^  Where  is 
Helen?" 

''Dead  !  "  Una  cried,  with  a  last  hysterical  sob.  *'  Oh, 
Mr.  Thornton,  Helen  is  dead  ! " 

It  had  been  all  silent  enough  a  moment  before — to  de- 
scribe the  shriek  and  commotion  that  followed  Una's  start- 
ling announcemeiit,  would  be  utterly  impossible. 

Mr.  Thornton,  speechless  and  paralyzed,  and  Conway 
deadlv  white,  were  the  calmest  of  all.  He  was  still  hold- 
ing  her  wrists,  unconscious  how  cruelly  hard,  and  still 
mesmerizing  her  with  his  strong  dark  eyes. 

**  Dead  !  do  you  know  what  you  are  saying,  Una?" 

'^  Oh,  I  do  !  Oh,  Conway  !  she  is  in  the  conservatory, 
dead  !  murdered  !  " 

**  Murdered!"  a  wild  chorus  of  voices  repeated  in 
horror  ;  and  then,  by  one  impulse,  a  universal  rush  was 
made  for  the  conservatory.  AH  but  Conway — the  word 
"  conservatory  "  stunned  him,  and  he  stood  perfectly  still, 
grasping  Una,  and  looking  into  her  frightened  blue  eyes 
us  if  he  had  forever  lost  tlie  power  of  gazing  elsewhere. 

It  was  impossible  for  the  girl's  Albino  face  to  turn  any 
whiter  than  Nature  had  made  it,  but  her  very  lips  were 
blanched  with  fear. 

**  Oh,    Conway!"   she    said,    in    a    terrified    whisper, 
*'Euofene  has  been  here  !" 
Eugene  ! " 
He  was  alone  with  her  in  the  conservatory.     She  went 


^ 


THE  TRAGEDY  BLACKENS. 


65 


■•I 

I 


ill  there  well  and  full  of  life.     Less  than  half  an  hour  after 
when  1  went  to  look  for  her,  I  found  her  lying  tliere — 

dead  ! " 

No  marble  statue  could  have  worn  a  face  whiter  or  more 
rigidly  set  than  did  the  bridegroom  ;  no  liands  in  frozen 
death  could  have  been  more  icy  than  those  grasping  her 
tortured  wrists.  But  life,  terrible  and  intensely  burning 
life,  shone  in  those  large  dark  eyes. 

"  lie  was  alone  with  Helen  in  the  conservatory,"  he  re- 
peated, his  very  voice  changing  so  that  she  scarcely  knew 

It. 

''  Oh,  Conway,  yes  !     Oh,  Conway " 

''  Has  he  gone?" 

''  He  left  a  few  minutes  before  I  went  in  and  found 
her " 

The  hysterical  sobs  commenced  again,  checked  in  their 
commencement,  however,  by  an  appalling  biglit.  Five  or 
six  gentlemen  were  approaching,  bearing  between  them 
the  convulsed  form  of  Mr.  Tliornton,  foaming  and  writh- 
ing in  a  fit  of  epilepsy — a  horrible  sight  to  look  at.  With 
a  scream,  Una  broke  from  Conway  and  fled,  and  he,  just 
glancing  at  the  purple  and  distorted  f.  ce,  turned  steadily 
to  the  scene  of  the  tragedy. 

The  large  room  was  full,  but  every  one  made  way  for 
him.  Xo  one  but  her  father  had  dared  to  touch  her.  She 
lay  still  as  Una  had  found  her  ;  and  an  eminent  physician, 
who  chanced  to  be  among  the  guests,  was  bending  over 
her.  One  glance  at  the  face  told  the  whole  story — his 
bride  was  no  longer  his,  but  the  bride  of  Death.  He  made 
no  attempt  to  touch  her  ;  and  his  voice  when  he  spoke, 
was  quite  calm,  only  it  did  not  sound  like  the  voice  of 
Conway  Hazelwood  ;  and  that  terrible  light,  like  dusky 
red  flame,  was  burning  ominously  in  his  eyes. 

*'  She  is  quite  dead  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Quite,"  said  the  medical  man,  looking  up  ;  "  a  terrible 
crime  has  been  committed  here.  The  young  lady  has  been 
poisoned  ! " 

"  Ah  !   poisoned." 

"  Yes,  she  has  evidently  swallowed  a  dose  of  prussic  acid 
strong  enough  to  kill  a  horse  in  a  few  minutes.  F?*iends, 
a  horrible  murder  has  been  committed — it  is  no  time  to 
stand  idle — who  can  the  murderer  be  ?  " 

Conway  Hazelwood  turned  out  of  the  room  with  the 


ii^ 


I- 

I' 


J  I 


11 


66 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I 


'  I 


I' 


i   :' 


same  steady  step  lie  had  entered  took  his  hat  and  left  the 
house.  Ten  minutes  later,  he  was  standing  in  his  own, 
and  encountering  his  aunt  face  to  face  in  the  lower 
hall. 

''Gracious  me,  Conway  !  What  brings  you  here?  And. 
what  on  earth  is  the  matter — you  look  like  a  ghost  ! " 

He  stopped  on  his  way  up-stairs,  and  looked  at  her. 

"Have  you  seen  Eugene  ?     Has  he  been  here?  ' 

"  Yes,  and  he  is  hero  yet.  He  is  up  in  his  room  pack- 
ing something  for  another  journey,  I  suppose.  Has  any- 
thing hap " 

Through  the  hall-window  Conway  saw  two  policen  :i 
passing.  Another  instant,  and  he  had  opened  the  :\or 
and  hailed  them.  One  of  them  knew  him,  and  touched 
his  luit. 

"  Anything  wrong,  Mr.  Hazelwood,  that  you  want  us  ? 
AVhat  can  we  do  for  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  make  an  arrest.  A  great  crime  has  been 
committed  to-day,  and  the  perpetrator  is  heve  !  Aunt  tell 
one  of  the  servants  to  call  a  cab.  I  shall  want  it  directly. 
This  way,  gentlemen." 

In  a  i)erfect  trance  of  amazement  and  bewilderment, 
Mrs.  Wood  stood  looking  after  her  nephew  and  the  two 
officials  going  up-stairs,  quite  incapable  of  giving  the  order 
he  had  left.  A  little  negro  boy,  who  did  the  errands  of 
the  house,  clianced  to  be  within  liea;.'ing  distance,  liowever, 
and  ran  off  for  the  cab  at  once. 

''  What's  the  crime  that's  been  committed  ?"  one  of  the 
policemen  asked,  on  their  way  up-stairs. 

"  Murder  !  "  was  the  stern  response. 

*';Murdcr?"  repeated  the  policenum,  aghast.  ''And 
do  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Hazelwood,  the  murderer's 
here?" 

''  I  do  !  He  is  in  this  room  !  "  said  Conway,  knocking 
loudly  at  Eugene's  door. 

It  was  opened  at  once,  and  by  Eugene  himself.  He  had 
been,  as  jMrs.  Wood  had  said,  packing  up,  for  a  trunk, 
half-filled,  was  open,  and  the  floor  was  stre\vn  with  olotho.-i, 
dressing-cases,  and  articles  of  all  kinds.  He  looked  in 
unfeigned  astonishment  from  his  brother  to  the  policemen. 

*'  Conway  !  you  here  !     What  does  this  mean  ?  " 


It   means 
shoulder,  "that 


Conway   cried,    grasping    him    by    the 
you   are  a   prisoner.     You   thought   to 


i 


# 


THE  TRAGEDY  BLACKENS. 


6j 


if'i 


in 
leii. 

the 
to 


escape,  did  you  ?     Well,  you  have  failed.     Take  him,  men 
— a  cjib  is  waiting  below  I " 

Eugene,  strong  as  a  young  Hercules,  shook  him  indig- 
nantly olf. 

•'Are  you  mad,  sir?  Your  prisoner!  On  what 
charge  ? '' 

"  Tliat  of  murder  !  You  liave  liopt  your  threat  well, 
Helen  Thornton  is  dead  ;  but,  by  Ileavon,  you  sliall  hang 
for  it  as  high  as  Hainan,  were  you  ten  brothers  of  mine  ! " 

Eugene  stood  looking  at  him,  utter  and  unfeigned 
amazement  and  consternation  written  in  every  feature  of 
his  face. 

''  Helen  Tliornton  dead  !  Have  you,  indeed,  gone  mad, 
or  liave  I  ?  Why,  it  is  not  over  half  an  hour  since  1  left 
her,  alive  and  well !  " 

''Away  with  him,  men,  to  the  cab.  Come,  I  will  help 
you  if  he  resists." 

His  eyes  were,  indeed,  those  of  a  madman.  Eugene 
looked  at  him  like  one  who  doubts  the  evidence  of  his 
senses. 

"  Conway,  have  you  really  gone  mad  ?  Wiiere  are  you 
taking  me  to  ? 

"  To  the  scene  of  your  guilt — to  Helen  Thornton's 
house.  Take  him,  I  tell  you,  men,  whether  he  resists  or 
not ! " 

Eugene  turned  calmly  to  the  policemen. 

'*  All  this  is  Greek  to  me,  but  I  will  go,  if  only  to  find 
out  what  all  this  mystery  means.     Go  on  ;  I  will  follow." 

The  cab  was  at  tlic  door  ;  the  four  entered,  and  in  silence 
were  driven  to  the  house — an  hour  ago  of  merriment,  now 
of  death.  Conway  strode  on  to  the  dining-room  ;  Eugene 
followed,  in  charge  of  the  two  policemen.  The  s})acious 
room  wiis  a  srciie  of  the  utmost  disorder,  excitement  and 
confusion — everybody  had  ilocked  back  there.  The  phy- 
sician wlio  had  informed  Conway  that  the  bride  had  been 
poisoned,  was  talking  to  a  knot  of  fru-nds. 

''  She  has  been  poisoned — murdered,  1  repeat  I  Our 
first  r>bject  now  must  be  to  discover  the  murderer  'i'' 

'*  Jle  is  here  !"  cried  Conway,  in  a  voice  that  rung  like 
a  trumpet  through  the  room,  as  he  stepped  forward,  with 
liis  hand  on  Eugene's  si  oulder.  *'  1  accuse  my  younger 
brotlier,  Eugene  Uazehvood,  of  the  murder  of  Helen 
Thornton!"  ' 


68 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


I 


■  I 


ii 


'T,i 


THE  LAST  J) ARK  SCENE. 

A  PRTSON-CELL,  dark  {uid  nnrrow,  the  slanting  rays  of 
tlie  ruddy  sunset,  tinging  witli  gold  the  iron  bars  of  the 
grated  window,  and  falling  in  bright  patches  on  the  cold 
stone  floor;  its  very  briglitness  and  beauty  seemed  crudest 
mockery  in  such  a  place,  as  it  lay  in  shining  })atches  on 
the  rude  truiulle-bed,  on  the  ban?  deal  table  and  the 
Bvilitary  chair  tliat  completed  the  dreary  cell's  appoint- 
ments ;  a  crnel  mockery  to  whatever  2)oor  wretcli  might 
be  confined  tliere,  speaking,  as  it  did,  so  forcibly  of  the 
bright,  free  world  outside. 

A  man — a  young  man — no  common  felon,  either,  for  he 
bore  the  unmistakable  impress  of  a  gentleman — walked  i\p 
and  down  the  cell's  narrow  limits,  his  hands  crossed  behind 
liim,  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast,  his  black  brows  con- 
tracted in  a  desperate  scowl.      The  prisoner   was  Eufi-ene 


tigers 


tread 


llazelwood ;  and  as  you  have  seen  caged 
ceaselessly  ii.nd  savagely  up  and  down  their  barred  cages, 
he,  with  much  the  air  of  a  sullen,  ferocious,  human  tiger, 
strode  his.  It  had  all  passed  like  a  horrible  nigi  tmarc — 
the  first  shock  of  amazement,  horror,  incredulity,  ilie 
post-mortem  examination,  the  cr»roner's  iinpiest,  th*»  trial, 
the  frightful  array  of  circumstantial  evidence,  tliat 
as  if  by  magic,  and  confounded  eveti  the  most  increduiou^. 
Throughout  it  all  the  elder  brother  had  labored  with  a})- 
palling  zeal  to  bring  home  the  crime  of  niiirder  w  the 
younger.  Conway  llazelwood  was  as  llrmly  convincwl  of 
Eugene's  guilt  as  he  was  of  his  own  existence,  and  tliiat 
conviction  served  in  one  hour  to  have  complK^^ly  o.iu*ti^d 
his  whole  nature.  'Vhe  gay,  careless,  g^nceleS'  <'onw;iy, 
the  pet  and  darling  of  the  ladies,  was  goin'  fon.-ver  ;  and 
in  his  stead  was  a  relentless,  remorselc'  unfeeling 
avenger,  wliose  stern  motto  was  ''Justice  liough  the 
heavens  fall  !  "  No  bloodliound  could  have  hunted  down 
his  prey  more  cruelly  and  unflinchingly  ;  through  him 
arose  tlie   frightful  chaiu  of  evidence,  his  mad  lovo   for 


THE  LAST  DARK  SCENE. 


69 


ho 


Helen,  bis  madder  jcidousy  iind  tlireats,  his  absence,  liis 
return  the  niglit  before,  the  mysterious  note,  evidently  in 
a  feigned  hand,  that  had  led  the  bride  to  the  conservatory, 
his  short  visit,  and  the  awful  (ienonemeni  Vinit  followed  his 
departure  ;  his  nearest  relatives  had  been  the  principal  wit- 
nesses against  hini — his  aunt,  his  cousin  Una,  his  brotlier 
Arthur — all  horrified  and  unwilling,  had  to  speak  the 
words  that  condemned  and  branded  him  as  the  murderer  ; 
the  servant  wlio  had  admitted  him  ;  even  his  mediciil 
knowledge  of  poison — were  conclusive  proofs  against  him  ; 
and  if  a  last  link  were  wanting,  Conway  supplied  it,  by  re- 
hiting  the  snare  that  had  been  laid  to  foist  tlie  guilt  on 
luni.  He  told  the  tale  0*  the  nocturiud  encounter  on 
Broadway  ;  he  was  positive  now  the  man  with  the  black- 
ened face  must  have  been  Eugene.  So  the  examiiuition 
went  on  ;  and  the  first  amazement  and  incredulity  gave 
})lace  to  horrible  convictions,  and  Kugene  [fazelwood  was 
held  to  stand  his  trial  for  the  wilful  murder  of  Helen 
Thornton.  The  excitement  was  U!i[)re('e(lented  ;  new>!- 
papers  were  full  of  surmises  aiul  particulars  :  society  lield 
up  its  hands  in  liorror  ;  somebody  di'amatizcd  the  story, 
and  the  lucky  manager  who  got  the  play  had  his  house 
crowded  every  night  for  a  mon^^^  Sensation-novelists 
wrought  it  up  into  thrilling  tales,  with  embel'i.shments 
and  decorations  of  their  own,  and  the  public  devoured  the 
bloodthirsty  productions  wholesale.  3Iurder  becaTue  all 
the  fashion,  and  poisoning  the  favorite  theme  of  gossip  in 
every  circle.  People  would  listen  to  no  opera  but  Lucretia 
]5orgia,  and  all  tlie  city  was  on  tiptoe,  inipatif^nt  for  the 
coming  trial.  Frightful  woodcuts,  said  to  bo  exact  por- 
traits of  ihe  murderer,  his  victim,  and  bereaved  l>rother, 
decorated  every  print-shop,  and,  if  notoriety  could  impart 
comfort,  Eugene  Hazelwood  was  an  enviable  man. 

Throughout  it  all,  he  had  been  like  a  man  stunned — 
like  one  who  cannot  realize  what  is  piissing  iiround  him. 
Ho  had  pleaded  Not  Guilty — of  course,  the  most  guilty, 
as  the  (.'oroner  rennirked,  do  that — but  it  had  been  in  a 
b(Mvildored  sort  of  way,  and  that  IxMvilderment  had  lasted 
all  through  his  trial.  Some  people  might  tliink  it  pro- 
ceeded from  the  stunning  shoc^k  of  amazement  at  finding 
himself  thus  suddenly  convicted  of  a  crime  lu;  had  never 
dreamed  of,  but  very  few  were  so  charilable  as  to  think 
that.     Tlie  proof  was  very  clear  ;  the  evidence  wanted  not 


Pi 


m 


I; 


iirl 


4 


1! 


11    -'i 


;o 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


a  link  ;  his  own  brother  was  his  accuser  ;  his  nearest  rela- 
tives reluctant,  naturally,  to  give  evidence  against  him, 
yet  were  obliged  to  do  it,  and  believed  him  guilty. 

Weeks  had  passed  since  then,  and  with  those  passing 
weeks  the  prisoner's  mood  had  changed.  Ke  saw  himself 
accused,  condemned,  deserted  ;  Fate,  stronger  tlian  he, 
was  against  him ;  and  he  became  moody,  sullen,  and 
savage,  refusing  to  answer  questions — a  dark  and  desperate 
man  of  whom  the  very  jailers  were  afraid.  They  had  been 
dreary  weeks  those,  in  some  places  ;  those  were  in  tiie 
home  of  Mr.  Thornton,  desolate  and  bereaved,  with  the 
broken-hearted  father  lying  ill  unto  deatli,  in  tlie  home  of 
the  Ilazelwoods,  silent  and  darkened,  wliere  old  Mr.  Hazel- 
wood,  shut  up  in  his  room,  never  saw  any  one.  and  battled 
with  his  grief  and  shame  in  proud  solitude,  where  Una 
went  through  tlie  dusky  room  like  a  little  white  ghost ; 
and  Mrs.  AVood  declined  taking  her  meals  at  proper  liours, 
and  cried  till  her  eyes  were  as  red  as  a  ferret's,  and 
her  eyes  and  lier  heart  ached  alike  ;  Arthur  moped  down 
in  his  gloomy  studio  and  took  to  smoking  harder  than 
ever,  some  said  to  drinking  also  ;  and  Conway  took  lodg- 
ings witiiin  view  of  his  brother's  prison,  and  changed  into 
a  relentless,  gloomy,  and  stern  man,  saw  no  one.  and  was 
almost  as  much  a  prisoner,  with  his  own  will  for  his  jailer, 
as  his  unhappy  brother.  Dreary  weeks  to  all,  but  dreari- 
est in  the  lonesome  prison-cell,  wliere  the  young  physician 
paced  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  brooding  over  his  own 
dark  thoughts,  night  and  day,  and  fading  into  the  very 
shadow  of  himself.  White  and  wan  was  the  face  on  which 
the  sun's  rays  fell  this  evening — the  eve  of  his  trial — for 
to-morrow  he  was  to  face  the  crowded  court-house,  and  be 
tried  for  his  life. 

Shuflling  footsteps  came  along  the  stone  corridor  with- 
out, a  key  turned  gratingly  in  the  lock  of  his  door,  it 
swung  back,  some  one  entered,  and  it  was  slammed  to 
again,  ^j'iie  prisoner  turned  round,  and  saw  the  white 
hair  and  bowed  head  of  his  kind  old  father.  It  was  not 
that  father's  first  visit,  but  Eugene  gave  no  t()k(Mi  of 
pleasure  or  welcome  as  he  })ointed  to  the  solitary  chair, 
and  resumed  his  march  uj)  and  down. 

]\lr.  Jfazelwood  sunk  into  the  seat  with  a  sort  of  groan. 

'•  My  ])oor  l)oy  !  To-morrow  is  the  terrible  day  I  have 
looked  forward  to  in  horror  so  long." 


THE  LAST  DARK  SCENE. 


;i 


i  I 


Eugene  looked  at  him,  moodily. 

**  If  I  felt  like  thanking  Heaven  for  anything,  1  sh(;iVi(\ 
be  thankful  that  ic  is  so  near.  Let  them  do  their  worst, 
the  whole  of  them  ;  that  worst  can  be  but  hanging,  and 
hanging  is  a  thousand  times  preferable  to  the  horrible  ex- 
istence I  have  been  dragging  out  here." 

"  Oh,  my  boy  !  my  boy  !  I  am  an  old  man,  and  why 
did  I  not  die  before  I  saw  this  dav  ?  " 

lie  dropped  his  white  head  on  the  table,  with  another 
groan,  but  Eugene  looked  on  with  a  strong  eye. 

"I  suppose  you  are  all  preparing  your  evidence  against 
me  for  to-morrow.  It  is  a  consoling  thought,  that  when 
I  am  condemned  I  shall  have  no  one  to  thank  for  it  hut 
my  nearest  relatives." 

"  Heaven  help  us  !  what  can  we  do  ?  Oh,  Eugene  I  is 
there  no  way  of  saving  you  ?  Is  there  nothing  that  will 
tell  in  your  favor  ?  " 

'* Nothing  !  It  has  been  clearly  proven  that  I  was  the 
last  one  who  saw  Ilolen  Thornton  alive  ;  of  course,  then, 
I  must  be  the  assassin." 

"How  c:in  you  speak  in  that  mocking  tone,  Eugene  ? 
Oh,  why  did  you  insist  on  seeing  her  that  fatal  morning  ?" 

"  I  have  already  informed  you,  and  my  all-wise  judges, 
to  tell  her  a  secret  connected  with  her  adored  bridegroom. 
To  tell  her  I  could  prove  lie  had  one  wife  already  in  the 
land  of  the  living,  and  two  interesting  babes.  That 
would  have  stopped  the  ceremony,  I  think,  if  the  laws  of 
this  narrow-minded  country  will  not  recognize  a  man's 
right  to  two  wives  at  the  same  time.  Of  course,  my  story 
was  looked  upon  as  a  fal)rication  ;  and,  of  conrso,  it  will 
be.  Let  them  do  tlieir  worst,  curse  thein  !  "  he  cried, 
savagely,  clejiching  his  fist  ;  ''  I  defy  theni  all !  " 

It  was  a  disnud  interview,  but  a  short  one;  and  ]Mr. 
Hazel  wood  returned  to  his  home  with  a  heart  heavier,  if 
possible,  tlian  when  he  had  left  it.  He  could  not  believe 
Eugene  guilty,  strong  as  the  ])roofs  were  against  him  ;  but 
he  had  little  hope  that  either  judge,  jury,  or  pul)lic  would 
join  in  his  opinion.  It  was  a  miserable,  a  sleepless  night 
to  him,  to  them  all  ;  but  the  sun  rose  at  last  on  the  day 
he  dreaded  to  see.  The  most  horrible  thing  about  the 
whole  horrible  afl'air  was  that,  as  Eugene  had  said,  his 
nearest  relatives  were  his  deadliest  accusers.  All-ah- 
horrent  as   the   task  was,  yet  go  they  must,  speak  they 


M 


ii' 


\<   I 


4 


* 


m 


72 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


II.    n 


were  obliged  to.  And  closely  veiled,  and  wearing  deepest 
mourning,  Mrs.  Wood  and  Una  set  out  for  the  crowded 
court-house. 

jjong  before  its  doors  were  thrown  open,  street  and  side- 
walk were  filled  with  a  sea  of  people,  and  when  at  last  wa}"- 
was  made  for  them,  they  poured  into  the  building  and 
filled  it  to  sutfocation.  Busy  reporters  leaned  over  the 
desks,  stylinhly-dressed  ladies  whispered  together  and 
waited  impatiently  for  the  prisoner  to  be  brought  in  ; 
artists  came  ready  to  take  correct  pencil-sketches  of  the 
faces  of  all  the  principal  personages  in  the  tragedy,  and 
all,  from  tlie  highest  to  the  lowest,  had  but  one  opinion 
of  the  issue — that  Eugene  Hazel  wood  was  guilty,  and 
would  meet  a  fate  he  richly  deserved. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  prisoner  was  led  in,  pale,  sullen, 
defiant ;  the  trial  began,  and  pens  and  pencils  went  to 
work.  The  case  was  ably  opened  by  the  counsel  for  the 
prosecution  ;  the  witnesses  against  him  were  plentiful  ; 
and  neither  the  prisoner  nor  his  lawyer  could  say  much 
that  weighed  against  the  crushing  amount  of  circumstan- 
tial evidence.  With  a  face  that  might  have  been  cut  out 
of  white  stone,  relentless  as  death,  pitiless  as  doom,  Con- 
way was  there  as  his  chief  accuser  ,  and  when  the  case 
M'as  adjourned  for  that  day,  the  mob  poured  out,  more 
and  more  assured  that  their  predictions  as  to  the  result 
were  correct. 

The  trial  lasted  three  days,  and  with  every  passing  hour 
the  prisoner's  case  grew  darker  and  darker.  It  ended  at 
last,  as  all  had  said — the  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of 
guilty,  but  with  a  recommendation  to  mercy,  on  account 
of  his  youth  and  res])ectability.  The  clobing  speech  of 
the  judge  was  a  touching  one  ;  the  stylishly-dressed  ladies 
wept  copiously  as  they  listened,  and  felt  very  sorry  for  the 
prisoner,  witli  the  stern,  moody  face,  when  they  heard  his 
sentence — imprisonment  for  life,  with  hard  labor.  It 
might  luive  been  death  ;  but  the  plea  for  mercy  had  been 
accepted,  and  it  was  only  imprisonment  for  life.  The 
prisoner  siuiled  as  he  heard  it,  such  a  strange  smile,  and 
turned  his  eyes  intently  on  his  elder  brother's  cold,  wliite 
face,  but  ho  bowed  to  the  kind  old  judge,  and  was  led 
from  the  court  without  a  word. 

Everybody  v/eut  liome  to  talk  about  it.  The  Hazel- 
woods,  never   speaking  at  all,  but  shrinking  from   eacli 


A  REVELATION. 


73 


other,  were  driven  to  tlieirs.  Conway  went  to  his  deso- 
late lodgings  ;  but  now  that  his  revenge  was  satiated,  a 
strange  restlessness  took  possession  of  him — a  wish  to  see 
and  s])eak  to  Eugene  once  more  before  he  left  New  York, 
as  on  the  morrow  he  intended  doing,  forever.  lie  battled 
with  the  desire  for  awhile,  but  it  was  stronger  than  he  ; 
and  as  dusk  was  falling  over  the  city,  he  put  on  his  hat 
and  wandered  slowly  to  the  prison.  There  was  a  crowd 
collected  round  the  principal  entrance,  talking  in  hushed 
tones,  and  with  solemn  faces. 

''  What  is  the  matter  ?"  Conway  asked,  of  one  of  the 
men  near  him. 

The  man  looked  at  him  queerly,  but  without  recogniz- 
ing him. 

""  A  very  shocking  thing,  sir  !  The  young  man,  Hazel- 
wood,  whose  trial  for  murder  ended  to-day,  has  just  been 
found  dead  in  his  cell.  He  hung  himself,  sir,  with  his 
pocket-handkerchief  to  one  of  tlie  bars  of  his  window.  It 
has  been  a  horrid  affair  all  through,  but  the  end  is  the 
most  horrid  of  all." 


i  ;? 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A   REVELATION. 


;e 


Among  the  crowd  collected  round  the  prison-gate  there 
stood  a  woman  dressed  in  shabby-genteel  mourning.  Tall 
and  slight,  and  youthful  of  form,  as  far  as  might  be  judged 
through  the  large  black  shawl  slic  wore.  A  thick  black 
crape  veil  hid  her  face,  and  was  gathered  close  in  ono 
small  gloved  hand,  as  if  A\q  feared  tiie  wind  might  flutter 
it  even  for  an  instant  aside. 

Conway  Ilazelwood,  moody  and  self-abstracted,  had  not 
seen  hor,  but  she  had  followed  himfromthehou.se,  walked 
after  him  stealthily  to  the  prison,  and  stopping  and  min- 
gling with  the  crowd  when  he  stopped,  hud  heard  his  in- 
quiry and  his  answer.  She  could  see  his  face,  though  he 
could  not  discern  hers,  and  she  saw  his  stony  and  riirid 
whiteness  turn   to   the  livid  and  gliastly  hue    of   death. 


fl 


74 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I 

i 

t 
i 

t        '; 

i 

; 

1'        ■ 

I 

\ 

m 


i 


i'iii 


There  was  a  lamp-post  near,  and  he  grasjied  it,  as  if  the 
earth  was  reeling  under  his  feet. 

''  Are  you  sure  ?  "  he  asked  ;  and  the  man  stared  at  him 
as  he  heard  his  hoarse  voice,  and  saw  the  frightful  change 
in  his  face. 

'^The  jailer's  a  cousin  of  mine,  and  it  was  him  that 
found  him  as  dead  as  a  herring,  not  fifteen  minutes  ago. 
Was  he  any  relation  of  yours,  sir  ?  "' 

Tlie  young  man  did  not  answer,  lie  turned  with  long 
strides  and  souglit  the  main  entrance  to  the  prison,  sure 
of  admission  and  bent  on  learning  the  certainty  of  the 
ghastly  news  he  had  just  heard. 

The  woman  in  mourning  watched  him  out  of  sight,  and 
then  flitted  away  in  the  gathering  gloom  of  the  evening — 
a  darker  shadow  among  the  shadows.  She  entered  a 
stationer's  shop  and  purchased  pen,  ink  and  paper. 

"  I  have  a  letter  to  write  before  I  go  home,"  she  said  to 
the  clerk,  in  a  soft,  sweet  voice  and  the  tone  of  a  lady, 
"will  you  be  kind  enough  to  let  me  write  it  here?" 

''  Certainly,  madam,"  the  young  man  said,  looking  ad- 
miringly at  the  beautiful  white  hand  on  the  counter,  and 
from  it  curiously  to  the  hidden  face.  "  Step  this  way,  if 
you  please." 

There  was  a  desk  in  a  distant  corner,  under  the  jets  of 
gas.  The  lady  seated  herself  at  it  and  began  to  write,  but, 
to  the  deep  disappointment  of  the  jiolite  shopkeeper,  with- 
out ever  raising  the  odious  screen. 

*•'  Oh,  hang  the  veil ! "  cried  the  clerk,  inwardly. 
"  Why  don't  she  put  the  confounded  thing  up  ?  It's  all 
very  well  for  o.d  and  ugly,  and  pockmarked  females  to 
wear  'em,  but  no  woman  with  such  a  hand  as  she's  got  can 
be  anything  else  than  stunning.  Last  Mercury  ma'am — 
five  cents,  if  you  please.'' 

The  winding  up  of  his  soliloquy  was  addressed  to  a  cus- 
tomer ;  and  as  he  turned  rouiid  after  serving  her,  he  saw 
the  veiled  lady  descend  from  the  desk  with  a  note,  folded 
and  sealed,  in  her  hand. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said  the  sweet  voice  ; 
**  good  evening." 

Tlic  gas  was  lit  in  the  streets  as  the  woman  in  blnck 
rapidly  retraced  her  steps.  She  stopped  a  moment  to  look 
at  the  gloomy  prison  as  she  went  by.  There  was  a  throng 
about  the  gate  still,  discussing  the  frightful  end  of  the 


A  REVELATION. 


75 


■s 

I 


1 

-■9; 


tragedy  ;  but  she  spoke  to  no  one,  and  liurried  on  again, 
till  she  came  to  tlie  lodgings  of  Conway  Hazel  wood.  Iler 
ring  at  the  door-bell  was  answered  by  a  tidy  maid-servaut. 

'^  Mr.  Hazel  wood  boards  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

''  Ves'ni." 

''  Is  he  at  home  ?  " 

^'Xo'm.'' 

"  Will  you  please  give  him  this  letter  as  soon  as  ho 
comes  ?  " 

"  Yes'm  ;  but  iiadn't  you  better  step  in  and  wait.  He'll 
be  in  directly,  and  you  mayn't  see  him  again,  because  he's 
going  to  England  iu  the  steamer  to-morrow." 

^'Xo,"  replied  the  soft  voice  behind  the  veil;  ^'Ido 
not  wisli  to  see  him.  Give  him  the  letter  as  soon  as  he  ar- 
rives.   Good  night." 

She  was  gone  as  she  spoke — not  a  second  too  soon,  if,  as 
she  said,  she  did  not  wish  to  meet  Mr.  llazelwood  ;  for 
scarcely  had  she  turned  the  next  corner,  when  his  tall  form 
and  pale  face  confronted  the  girl  like  a  ghost  ! 

''  A  letter  for  you,  sir,"  she  said,  presenting  the  docu- 
mtiut ;  "a  lady  in  black,  which  she  has  just  gone  this 
minute,  left  it,  and  said  it  was  to  be  given  as  soon  as  you 
come  in.  Will  you  come  down  to  tea,  sir,  or  will  I  fetch 
it  up  ?" 

"  I  do  not  wish  any,"  lie  said,  taking  the  letter,  and 
passing  up-stairs  to  his  room  without  looking  at  it. 

A  lighted  lamp  stood  on  a  littered  table  ;  but  the  whole 
room  was  in  a  litter,  for  that  matter,  with  evident  prepa- 
rations for  a  journey.  Opened  trunks,  half-packed  valises, 
clothes,  books,  and  all  sorts  of  miscellany  strewn  over  the 
carpet  in  a  heap.  Indifferently  enough  he  ghmced  at  the 
superscription  of  the  letter  as  he  paused  before  the  lamp, 
but  in  tliat  one  glance  all  indifference  vanished.  It  was 
dainty  enough  chirography,  delicate  but  decided — writing 
that  had  character  in  it — but  nothing  one  would  think  to 
make  him  start  as  if  a  ball  Inid  struck  him.  In  an  instant 
he  had  torn  it  open,  and  was  literally  devouring  its  con- 
tents. His  face  altered  so  as  he  road  that  you  would 
scarce  have  known  it ;  it  had  been  harder  than  marble,  as 
cold,  as  rigid,  as  expressionless  ever  since  that  fatal  morn- 
ing on  which  he  h;id  found  his  bride  dead  and  his  brother 
guilty  of  that  death.  Through  the  trial,  the  sentence,  it 
had  retained  its  terrible  calm  ;  even  the  change  that  had 


i.t 


1« 


76 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


Hi     ; 


<w 


come  over  it  when  he  heard  of  tliat  brother's  horrible  end, 
and  later,  when  lie  had  looked  on  the  jiiirple  and  distorted 
face  of  tlie  suicide  in  his  prison  cell,  was  nothing  to  the 
ghastly  change  that  came  now.  It  dropped  from  his  hand 
as  he  finished  ;  and  convulsed,  like  one  in  an  epileptic  fit, 
he  sunk  into  the  nearest  chair,  great  beads  of  dark,  cold 
sweat  standing  on  his  brow.  It  did  not  last  long  ;  these 
moments  of  mortal  agony  mercifully  never  do.  A  decan- 
ter of  brandy  stood  on  the  table ;  he  poured  out  a  large 
glassful  of  the  raw  strong  liquor,  and  drained  it,  as  if  it 
had  been  water.  The  crumpled  letter  lay  at  his  feet  ;  he 
picked  it  up,  and  with  the  same  ghastly  face  read  it  over 
again.  It  was  brief,  but  horrible  enough  to  produce  even 
a  more  awful  result  than  it  had  done,  and  ran  thus  : 

'^  My  Dear  Husband: — As  I  have  a  strong  inward 
conviction  I  am  the  only  woman  alive  who  now,  or  at  any 
future  time,  will  ever  have  any  right  to  call  you  by  that 
endearing  name,  I  so  address  you,  notwithstanding  your 
conduct  of  late  has  been  rather  unhusbandlike — even  un- 
kind. I  do  not  mean  to  rei)roacli  you,  my  dear  Conway, 
but  reflect  on  the  feelings  of  a  tender  mother,  whose  oif- 
spring  are  torn  from  her  maternal  bosom,  as  mine  have 
been,  in  the  dead  of  night,  by  a  man  in  a  cloak,  named 
Captain  Forrest,  who  stole  in,  like  any  low-bred  burglar, 
through  the  window  of  my  miserable  house,  and  carried 
them  off.  I  understand  that  twin-infants  found  their  way 
to  your  father's  aristocratic  city  abode  shortly  after,  which 
satisfies  me  that  Caj^tain  Forrest  meant  well  by  the  chil- 
dren, whatever  he  might  do  by  the  bereaved  mother. 
Then,  my  dear  Conway,  was  it  not  still  more  unkind  of 
you  to  desert  me  to  starvation  in  the  city  streets  ?  1  will 
do  you  the  justice  that  you  left  me  free  to  choose — and  re- 
solved to  take  unto  yourself  a  younger  and  richer,  I  was 
about  to  say  fairer  bride — but  that  would  not  be  true — 
and  ^  truth  ever  lovely,'  etc.,  has  been  my  motto  through 
life.  Even  my  saintly  endurance  was  not  proof  against 
this  '  last  unkindest  cut  of  all.'  I  resolved,  at  all  hazards, 
to  save  you  from  the  shocking  sin  of  bigamy,  and  forsak- 
ing my  beloved  mother  in  her  old  age,  came  to  New  York, 
and — prevented  it  !  How  ?  you  ask.  Xo  matter.  Your 
wife  is  a  clever  woman,  as  you  long  ago  learned,  my  Con- 
way, as  she  hopes  to  give  you  still  more  convincing  proofs 


A  REVELATION. 


77 


yet  before  she  quits  this  dying  world.  Lciirn,  tliongh,  oh, 
•wise  young  judge,  oh,  second  Cain  I  that  Eugene  llazel- 
wood  was  innocent  of  the  crime  for  which  he  was  tried  and 
condemned.  It  was  I  who  followed  you  that  memorable 
night  down  Broadway  ;  it  was  I  who  administered  the 
poisoned  draught  to  the  pretty  bride  ;  it  was  I  who  laid  a 
snare  into  which,  had  you  fallen,  you  might  have  stood  in 
the  criminal  dock  in  your  brother's  }>laco.  It  was  I  who 
did  it  all,  and  I  glory  in  what  I  have  done.  More.  Con- 
way Hazelwood,  I  will  hunt  you  down  to  your  dying  day. 
I  will  be  your  evil  genius  through  life  ;  and  if  the  tales  of 
preachers  be  true,  at  the  judgment-scat,  on  tlie  last  great 
day,  I  will  be  your  deadliest  accuser  for  the  wrong  you 
have  done  me.  Your  brother  is  dead  by  his  own  liand, 
but  his  blood  cries  aloud  for  vengeance  on  you.  You  de- 
part to-morrow  for  foreign  lands.  Heaven  speed  you  on 
your  journey  I  Perhaps,  after  reading  this,  you  may  take 
it  into  your  head  to  look  for  me.  Well,  my  dear  Conway, 
look  for  last  winter's  snow,  for  last  summer's  partridges, 
and  when  you  have  found  them,  then  you  may  stand  a 
chance  of  discovering  your  affectionate  wife, 

"  Rose  Hazelwood." 


It  dropped  from  his  paralyzed  hand  the  second  time, 
this  terrible  letter  ;  and  he  sat  staring  straight  before  him, 
seeing  nothing,  but  with  every  word  he  had  read  burning 
into  his  brain  like  fire.  He  never  for  a  moment  doubted 
its  truth — he  knew  the  writer  of  that  letter  too  well — and 
his  dead  brother's  blood  was  on  his  head. 

There  was  a  knock  at  his  door.  How  long  he  had  sat, 
his  eyes  fixed  in  that  unearthly  glare,  he  could  not  tell — 
ages,  it  seemed  to  him  ;  but  at  the  knock,  loudly  repeated, 
lie  started  up  to  a  vivid  consciousness  of  the  outer  world, 
and  opened  his  door.  It  was  his  landlady,  and  the  good 
woman  recoiled  with  a  scream  at  sight  of  him. 

■■Good  gracious  me,  ^Ir.  Hazelwood,  what  ever's  the 
matter  with  you  ?  You  look  as  if  you'd  been  dead  and 
dug  up  agtiin  ! '' 

He  did  not  speak  ;  he  only  stood  looking  down  at  her, 
waiting  for  what  she  had  to  say. 

"  It's  a  messag(»,  sir,  from  your  father  ;  a  .servant  brought 
it,  and  has  gone  away  again.     Ho  wants  to  see  you  before 


78 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


you  leave  ;  and  if  you  like,  sir,  I'll  pack  up  these  here 
thinjT^s  against  you  cunin  back — shall  1  ?  " 

'•  Yes — what  is  the  liour  ?  I  have  let  my  watch  run 
down." 

"  Just  f?ono  ten,  sir,  by  the  city  hall.  AVill  you  be  back 
to-n^lit  ?" 

"  Yes." 

His  landlady  looked  at  him  curiously,  his  face  and  voice 
were  so  dilTorunt  from  the  face  and  voice  of  her  lodger. 
The  letter  lay  on  the  ground  ;  he  i)icked  it  up,  folded  it, 
put  it  in  his  ])()cket,  put  on  his  hat,  and  went  out. 

''  Won't  you  take  your  overcoat,  Mr.  Hazelwood  ?  "  his 
landlady  cried,  after  him  ;  but  he  never  hoard  her  ques- 
tion, a!id  was  out  in  the  dark,  chill  night,  walking,  seeing, 
feeling  like  a  man  in  a  dreadful  dream. 

^'  I  do  believe  his  trouble,  and  the  disgrace  that  has 
fallen  on  his  family,  have  turned  his  brain,  poor  young 
gentleman  !  "  the  good  woman  thought,  '^  and  no  wonder, 
I'm  sure  !  Here's  everything  higgledy-piggledy  over  the 
floor  ;  it  will  take  me  a  good  two  hours  to  fix  them  ;  but 
no  odds,  he  pays  like  a  prince." 

The  shutters  were  closed,  the  blinds  lowered,  and  there 
was  crape  on  the  door  of  the  Hazelwood  mansion.  Tiie 
stillness  of  death  reigned  within,  and  the  servant  who 
opened  the  door  and  led  him  up  to  his  father's  room 
stepped  on  tiptoe,  and  spoke  below  his  breath. 

"He  has  never  lifted  his  head,  or  left  his  bedroom,  or 
spoke  a  word,  since  he  heard  this  evening  about  Mr. 
Eugene,"  the  man  whispered,  "except  to  tell  me  to  send 
for  you.  I'll  go  in  ahead,  sir,  and  let  him  know  you've 
come." 

Conway  stood  in  the  hall  without,  but  the  man  was  back 
directly. 

"You're  to  go  in,  sir,  he  says  ;  he  is  all  alone." 

The  young  man  entered  his  father's  chamber.  Dimly 
lighted  by  a  shaded  lamp  and  a  dying  coal  fire,  that 
stricken  father  sat  in  a  large  easy-chair,  his  dressing-gown 
lianging  loosely  about  him,  his  hands  lying  listless  on  his 
knees,  his  eyes  fixed  in  a  dull,  dreamy  stare  on  the  red 
embers. 

A  few  weeks  ago  he  had  been  a  strong,  hale,  npright  old 
man,  "frosty  but  kindly,"  now  he  sat  bowed  to  the  dust 
with    sorrow   and    shame,  looking    twenty    years    older, 


V 


A  REVELATION. 


79 


at   the   least.     He   lookod    up   piteously  at  liis  elder  sou 
now. 

*'  Oil,  Conway,"  lie  cried,  *'  is  it  true  ?  " 

"  It  is  quite  true." 

He  put  one  trembling  hand  up  over  his  face,  his  whole 
form  quivering.  The  young  man  stood  leaning  against 
the  mantel  and  looking  gloomily  in  the  fire. 

"  You  sent  for  me,"  he  said,  at  last,  looking  at  his 
father. 

Mr.  Hazelwood  dropped  the  hand  covering  his  face, 
and  looked  up. 

"  Yes,  Conway — you  are  going  away,  and  I  will  never 
see  you  again  I  Oh,  Conway,  my  boy  !  my  heart  is 
broken  ! " 

*'  And  it  is  I  who  have  done  it  I " 

''  You  !  No,  Conway — you  could  scarcely  have  acted 
otherwise  than  you  did,  believing  him  guilty " 

Conway  lifted  his  hand  to  interpose  : 

'*  I  believe  it  no  longer  !  Eugene  never  murdered  Helen 
Thornton  I  " 

''  Conway  !  " 

''  I  am  speaking  the  truth — don't  look  as  if  you  thought 
me  mad.     En  gene  Hazelwood  died  an  innocent  man  I  " 

*'  My  God  I  and  you — you  were  his  accuser  !  " 

"  I  know  it !  his  blood  is  on  my  head,  and — on  that  of 
one  other,  a  devil  in  human  form.  Y^'es,  recoil  from  mo, 
father,  look  on  me  with  horror,  for  through  mo  he  perished. 
I  have  but  one  excuse  to  offer  in  palliation — I  believed  him 
guilty  when  I  did  it." 

His  father  sat  looking  at  him,  his  lips  apart,  his  eyes  dis- 
tended, perfectly  speechless. 

*'  It  is  hardly  two  hours  ago  since  I  discovered  the  hor- 
rible mistake  that  has  been  made  ;  how  I  discovered  it,  or 
who  the  real  criminal  is,  I  cannot  tell.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
Eugene  died  guitless  of  the  crime  of  murder — more  than 
I  shall  ever  be  able  to  say,  for  his  death  lies  at  my  door." 

Still  Mr.  Hazelwood  did  not  speak,  could  not  speak — he 
only  sat,  his  face  rigid  in  that  white  horror. 

''  I  have  come  liere  to-night  to  tell  you  this,  father,"  the 
deep,  stern  tones  of  Conway  went  on,  "'  and  to  make  still 
another  revelation  before  1  leave  my  native  land  forever. 
It  concerns  these  children,  infants  left  here  so  mysteriously 
ou  Christmas  eve.     Father,  these  children  are  mine." 


1,! 


A,  i 


' 


•I' 


I  1^1 


80 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


There  was  a  gasping  cry  from  the  old  man  in  the  chair, 
but  Conway  never  took  his  gloomy  eyes  oiT  the  fire. 

"  The  letter  found  with  them  spoke  tlie  truth  ;  that 
letter  was  written  by  me.  They  are  your  grandchildren  ; 
I  have  been  married  for  nearly  three  years.  I  stole  them 
from  their  mother,  no  matter  for  what  reason,  and  brought 
them  here.  1  leave  them  in  your  care.  I  know  you  will 
provide  for  their  future,  for  ii:  is  not  probable  they  will 
ever  know  a  father's  care.  At ul  now,  sir,  farewell.  I  can- 
not ask  your  foroivene.is  for  what  I  have  done  ;  the  only 
atonement  I  can  make  is,  to  quit  the  home  I  have  deso- 
lated forever.  I  go  to-night — farev/ell,  father;  if  you  can- 
not bless,  try  not  to  curse,  your  first-born  son  ! " 

He  was  gone  even  while  spoke.  The  nursery  was  on  his 
way  to  the  staircase,  and  the  door  standing  ajar  as  he 
passed  ;  he  went  in.  All  was  quiet  there  ;  on  a  low  French 
bed  witli  snowy  draperies  the  twins  lay  asleep  ;  their  long 
black  curls  tossed  over  the  pillows,  their  cheeks  flushed, 
their  fat,  wlvite  arms  interlaced  in  their  slumbers.  In  a 
crib,  at  a  short  distance,  Mrs.  Wood's  little  daughter, 
Hazel,  was  sleeping,  too  ;  and  the  nursery-maid,  Jane,  had 
fallen  into  the  same  state,  at  a  table,  over  her  work.  A 
more  perfect  picture  of  innocence  and  peace  could  hardly 
be  imagined  ;  and  Conway  Ilazelwood,  on  his  way  to  vol- 
untary exile,  stood  long  bending  over  the  bed,  gazing  at 
the  two  pretty  rosy  faces  therein.  His  thoughts  could 
hardly  have  been  pleasant  ones  ;  for  his  face  was  dark  as 
tic  grave,  as  he  looked  down  with  knitted  brows  and  com- 
pressed lips  at  his  sleeping  children. 

lie  turned  away  at  last  as  Jane,  with  a  loud  yawn,  gave 
symptoms  of  waking  up;  and  going* slowly  down-stairs, 
went  out  of  the  front  door  without  encountering  any  one, 
and  Conway  Ilazelwood  had  left  his  father's  house  forever  ! 

Half  an  hour  after,  Mrs.  Wood,  entering  her  brother's 
room,  found  him  lying  on  his  face  on  the  floor,  as  cold 
and  lifeless  as  a  dead  man. 


i 


STOLEN. 


8i 


CHAPTER  X. 


STOLKX. 

The  golden  glory  of  a  June  .i"  •rnoon  streaming 
througli  the  wide-open  doors  uiid  window.'^  (jff  a  ])leasant 
old  farmhouse,  half  buried  in  a  tai  .:-!<'d  «rilderness  of 
grape-vines  and  sweetbriei-,  fell  in  bnlManr  squares  of 
luster  on  the  pretty  medallion  oarp«'t.  rosewood  furniture, 
and  inlaid  tables  of  a  charming  little  *itting-rooni.  The 
lace-covered  front  windows,  through  ivhich  the  fFuiu) 
breezes  blew  the  odors  of  the  sweetbric-  ind  T-ose-bushos 
around  it,  overlooked  the  one  long,  du.-'y,  straggling 
street  of  a  quiet  country  village  ;  and  the  windows  op- 
posite, filled  with  ilower-pots  and  canary  cages,  looked  out 
on  a  flowing  river,  flashing  and  glittei'ing  in  the  summer 
sunlight.  So  still  was  the  room  in  the  sultry  noon  still- 
ness that  the  rustling  of  tliovinpst'  and  the  shrill  singing  of 
the  canaries  sounded  preternatui-ally  loud,  ami  joitied  in  a 
drowsy  chorus  with  the  buzzing  of  the  flies  and  the  chir])- 
ing  of  the  grassho})pers  without.  The  quiet  room  had  but 
one  occui)ant  :  near  an  open  piano,  in  a  low  lOcking-chair 
— that  great  American  institution — swinging  backward 
and  forward,  a  young  lady  sat,  with  a  book  in  her  hand. 
A  very  young  lady,  looking  lifteen  or  thereabouts,  with 
pretty,  delicate  features,  a  skin  of  snowy  fairness,  a  profusion 
of  flaxen  hair,  worn  in  a  net  ;  small,  restless,  light-bluo 
eyes,  shifting  but  keen,  under  eyebrows  so  light  as  to  bo 
scarcely  worth  mentioning.  The  young  lady  wa,>?  dressed 
in  deep  mourning,  its  salde  hues  setting  olf  her  blonde 
beauty  like  a  pearl  incased  in  jet.  Her  book  was  **  Co- 
vinne'" ;  and  so  absorbed  Avas  she  in  its  pages  that  she  did 
not  hear  the  garden  gate  open,  nor  the  tread  of  a  man's 
foot  coming  up  the  graveled  p;ith.  A  sharp  double-knock, 
like  a  postman's,  at  the  0[)en  front  door,  startled  her  at 
last,  and  rising,  she  went  out  to  the  hall.  A  little  dark 
thin  nuin,  wearing  spectacles  ami  a  suit  of  dingy  black, 
stood  there,  and  tlie  young  lady  opened  iier  small  blue 
eyes  in  astonishment  at  sight  of  him. 


m 


m 


82 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


i-i 


I  i 


1 


''  Doctor  LiincG  ?  " 

Tlie  little  man  nodded  grimly. 

"  You're  Uiiii,  eh?  I  remember  yonr  face  very  well ! 
How  d'ye  do  ?     Anybody  besides  you  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Emily  has  gone  out  somewhere,,  but  she  will  bo 
hero  in  a  moment.     Please  to  walk  in  and  sit  down/' 

Doctor  Lance  promptly  accepting  Miss  Forest's  polite 
invitation,  followed  her  into  the  pretty  sitting-room,  and 
ensconced  himself  in  an  armchair  beside  the  window. 

*'  So  you've  all  been  in  trouble  since  I  left  New  York, 
ell  ?    How  loTij^"  is  it  since  your  uncle  died  ?  " 

Una  produced  a  luindkerchief,  bordered  an  inch  deep 
with  black,  and  applied  it  to  her  eyes. 

"  He  died  a  fortnight  after — after  Eugene.  He  was 
found  on  the  floor  of  liis  room  that  night  in  a  fit,  and 
never  rose  from  his  bed  afterward."  Una's  voice 
was  lost  in  a  sob.  Doctor  Lance  sat  and  eyed  her  like  a 
stoic. 

"  He  made  a  will,  eh  ?     J)id  he  make  a  will  ?  " 

^'  Y^es,  sir — the  day  before  he  died." 

^'  He  died  sure,  then  !  Wlio'd  have  tliought  it  ?  "  said 
Dr.  Lance,  parenthetically,  no  way  discomposed  by  Xrna's 
tears.     "  How  did  he  leave  his  property  ?  " 

L^na  looked  at  him,  rather  at  a  loss  how  to  answer.  Dr. 
Lance  put  it  more  directly. 

"  Did  he  leave  you  anything,  ]\[iss  Una  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — the  sum  of  live  thousand  dollars  when  I 
come  of  age.'' 

"  He  did,  eh  ?  Not  bad,  considering  he  was  not  a  rich 
man.     What  did  he  leave  Mrs.  Wood  ?  " 

*'  An  annuity  for  her  lifetime,  and  this  farm  ;  both, 
with  the  addition  of  three  thousand  dollars,  to  become 
Hazel's  at  her  mother's  death." 

*•  Very  liberal,  very  !  l>ut  Hiizelwood  always  had  his 
liand  in  his  pocket  for  his  poor  relations  ;  and  a  thankless 
set  they  were  !  All  the  rest  goes  to  his  two  sons,  I  sup- 
pose  r 

*'0h,  no,  sir.  There  were  two  other  legacies,  besides 
what  was  left  to  the  old  servants." 

"  Two  other  legacies,  eh  ?     For  whom  ?  " 

Una  dropped  her  ])orket-liandkerchief,  and  fixed  her 
shifting  blue  eyes  on  the  keen,  dark  face. 

*'  Do  you  remember  last  Christmas  eve,  sir  ?    You  wore 


STOLEN. 


83 


it 


at  our  house,  you  know,  and  saw  the  two  cliildren  left  in 
tlie  liall/' 

''  Of  course.     You  don't  mean  to  say " 

*' Yes,  sir.  Uncle  left  them  five  thousand  dollars  each, 
to  be  paid  them  on  attaining  tlieir  majority,  and  strict 
directions  about  their  education  ;  and  you,  sir,  are  ap- 
pointed their  guardian." 

Doctor  Lance  nc\'cr  swore  ;  he  was  an  instructor  of 
youth  ;  but  he  looked  at  this  last  announcement  as  if  he 
would  like  to.  His  dark  brows  knit  portentously,  and 
his  thin  lips  puckered  up. 

'^What  did  you  say?  Appointed  me  their  guardian  ! 
I  gnardiiin  over  two  little  girls  ?" 

"  Over  three,  sir,  for  Hazel  is  included.  Unc^e  wished 
to  see  you  very  much  before  he  died,  but  you  had  gone  to 
Cuba  ;  and  as  we  came  lierc  immediately  after,  Aunt  Emily 
could  not  find  out  whether  you  had  returned  or  not,  and 
that  is  the  reason  you  did  not  hear  all  this  sooner." 

Anything  grimmer  than  Doctor  Lance's  face  the  sun 
never  shone  on.  L'^na  thought  of  pictures  she  had  seen  of 
South  Sea  idols,  and  made  u))  her  mind  the  austere  little 
professor  might  have  sat  as  a  model  for  these  works  of  art. 
lie  jumped  up  from  his  chair,  thrust  his  hands  behind 
him,  and  began  an  excited  promeiuulc  up  and  down  the 
carpet. 

''It's  the  most  preposterous  thing  I  ever  heard  of, 
making  me  guardian  to  a  parcel  of  flighty,  silly,  female 
fools — for  ]  never  knew  a  young  girl  yet  who  wasn't  a  fool 
— aiul  the  Hazel  woods  the  greatest  fools  of  all  !  If  I  had 
been  with  Hugh  Hazel wooil,  I  should  have  ])ositively  re- 
fused it.  The  num  must  have  been  mad  !  AV'hcre  were  liis 
own  sons,  young  hidy,  that  J  had  to  be  lugged  into  the 
matter  ?  ''  denumded  the  profe-jsor,  turning  suddenly,  not 
to  say  fiercely,  on  Miss  Forest. 

**  Conway  was  away,  sir.  to  Europe,  and  none  knew  liis 
address.     Arthur,  you  kn(^w,  was  out  of  the  (juestion " 

'^  I  should  think  so.  No  more  brains  than  a  ba))Oon  ; 
but  then  brains  never  were  a  chariicteristic  of  the  family. 
I  thought  Eugene,  by  some  accident,  had  got  a  few,  'inlil 
he  proved  himself  as  great  a  ninny  as  the  rest.  Where  aro 
these  confouiuled —  I  nu^m  where  are  these  children  ? 
If  I  am  to  be  tormented  by  them  for  the  rest  of  my  life,  it 
strikes  me  it  is  time  I  saw  them  I  " 


.1  ii 


84 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I  I 


i 


i 


Una  rose  and  looked  out. 

*'  They  were  in  the  garden,  with  their  nurse,  a  short 
time  ago,  sir.     Shall  I  go  in  search  of  them  ?" 

Doctor  Lance  nodded  shortly,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 
As  Una  crossed  the  hall,  she  met  her  aunt  coming  in. 

'^  Doctor  Lance  is  in  the  sitting-room,  auntie,  and  in 
such  a  fume  !  You  had  better  go  in  and  talk  to  him  ;  he 
has  sent  mo  after  the  children  ;  and  there  they  are,  roll- 
ing about  like  little  pigs,  in  tlie  dust  of  the  road  !  Jane 
deserves  to  get  her  ears  boxed  !  " 

Ivolling  about  the  three  little  ones  certainly  were,  in  a 
'•loud  of  dust  in  the  middle  of  the  road  ;  their  frocks,  that 
had  been  of  spotless  white  that  morning,  anything  brt 
wliite  now  ;  laugliing,  screaming,  in  the  glee  of  childhood, 
and  tumbling  over  each  other,  as  L^'nasaid,  like  three  little 
pigs. 

'"  Pretty  objects  they'll  be  for  this  amiable  guardian  to 
contemplate  !     Where  can  Jane  be  ?     Why " 

Una,  leaning  over  the  wooden  g.ite,  stopped  suddenly  at 
the  sight  that  met  her  eyes.  A  tall  willow,  whose  long 
branches  trailed  on  the  grass,  was  near  the  gate,  and, 
under  its  agreeable  shade,  ^liss  Janet  sat,  very  much  at 
her  ease,  and  totally  indifferent  to  the  very  existence  of  her 
obstreperous  cliarges.  Not  alone,  either  :  a  queer  figure 
sat  beside  her,  holding  her  hand,  and  peering  intently  in 
her  palm — the  figure  of  an  old  woman,  miserably  clad,  and 
ugly  enough  to  be  one  of  the  witciies  in  "  Macbeth." 

*' Fortune-telling,  eh?"  said  Una,  catching  Doctor 
Lance's  sharp  interrogative  ;  *'  I  have  seen  that  hideous 
old  woman  lurking  about  here  often  within  the  last  week, 
and  she  came  begging  to  the  kitchen  door  yesterday.  Here, 
Jane  !  " 

Jane  started  up  with  a  very  red  and  guilty  face  at  sight 
of  the  young  lady. 

^'  Look  at  those  cliildren  !  "  said  Una.  **  Are  they  not 
nice  objects,  witii  mud  and  dust,  by  tiiis  time  ?     You're  a 

i)retty  nurse,  and  a  fine  hand  to  be  hnisted  out  of  sight  I 
'  suppose  this   is   the  wny  tliey  are  always  taken  care  of 
wlien  they  are  sent  out  with  you."' 

*' I  can't  help  it,"'  said  Jane,  rnther  sulkily.     "  I  can't 

do  nothing  with  that  little  limb,  Miss  Hazel.     She'll  roll 

in  the  dirt,  in  spite  of  all  the  nurses  fr(>ri  here  to  Jericho." 

*'  Very  well,  we  will  see  what  her  mother  will  say  when 


STOLEN. 


85 


I  tell  her  you  speiul  your  time  gadding  witli  old  witclies, 
instead  of  niintiiiig  your  work.  Take  them  into  the  room, 
and  think  yourself  lucky  if  you  are  not  discliarged  at  the 
end  of  the  month." 

Jane,  with  a  very  sulky  face,  went  over  and  dragged 
Mrs.  Wood's  olTspring,  with  no  gentle  jerk,  out  of  tliedirt, 
while  the  old  spaowil'e  hobbled  up  to  the  gate  and  stood 
peering  up  in  Miss  Forest's  face. 

'*  Let  me  tell  your  fortune,  my  pretty  lady,"  she  said, 
liolding  out  her  withered  hand  ;  •'  there  inust  be  some- 
thing very  good  in  the  future  for  tlie  owner  of  so  hand- 
some a  face." 

Una  laughed  a  mocking  little  laugh. 

"  You  can  Hatter  better  th m  you  can  speer  fortuTies, 
old  lady,  I  fancy.  Are  your  liands  clean  ?  Xo  ;  then  I 
guess  1  won't  miiul  having  my  fortune  told.  Jane  !  I  told 
you  to  take  those  children  into  the  house." 

As  Jane  went  through  the  gate  witli  her  charges,  or.eof 
whom — Miss  Ifazel — was  kicking,  and  screaming,  and 
pluiiging  manfully  to  get  free,  Una  saw  her  exehang<^  a 
meaning  glance  with  the  oM  woimm.  The  youi-g  lady 
read  tlie  glance  ariglit  ;  it  said  :  '•  We  have  been  inler- 
rupted,  but  I  will  come  again  ;  wait !  "  and  the  fortune- 
tellei  understood,  and  nodded  assent. 

'*  You  had  better  not  be  loitering  arouml  here,  ohl 
woman,"  said  Una,  sharply,  turning  after  .la!ie  into  the 
house.  "  We  don't  want  our  servants'  heads  turned  with 
your  nonsense.     Take  my  advice,  and  go  somewliei-e  else  I  " 

Without  waiting  to  see  whether  slie  were  obeyed  or  not, 
]\riss  Forest  went  back  to  the  house,  and  the  old  woman 
stood  looking  after  the  slight  girlish  ligure,  with  the  ilaxeu 
hair  and  the  mournifig  dress. 

''  Like  the  rest  I  lik(^  the  rest  I  "  she  muttered.  *'  Cold- 
blooded, cruel,  and  craftv  I  Ah  I  thev're  a  bad  lot — a  bad 
lot.  every  one  of  these  llazelwoods,  voung  and  old  I  " 

In  the  hall,  Una  mot  Jane,  still  fighcmg  Aviih  JFazel, 
whose  kicks  and  plunging  were  more  violent  than  ever. 

*' W^ash  their  faces  and  comb  their  haii*,  and  put  on 
cleiui  dresses,  and  then  fetch  tluMu  into  the  sitti!ig-i'0()m.'* 
were  her  orders.  "  There's  a  gentleman  there  wants  to  see 
tliem.  llazel,  be  good  aiul  you  shall  have  some  cake  and 
jam,  by  and  by  !  " 

Little  Miss  Wood,  who  was  a  great  gournumd,  loving 


I 

I 

I 


f 


86 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


II     ! 


rako  and  jam  better  tbananytliiiig  earthly,  except  mischief, 
looked  up  at  this,  vividly  interested  : 

''  Cake  and  jam  !  a  whole  lot,  Cousin  Una  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  whole  lot,  if  you  are  a  good  girl,  and  let  Jane 
wash  and  dre.ss  you,  and  behave  pretty  in  the  sitting-ro^m. 
Kow,  go  away." 

Miss  Hazel  at  once  wilted  down  and  consented  to  ])e  led 
o(t',  while  Una  went  toward  the  sitting-room.  The  sound 
of  her  own  name  caught  her  ear  through  the  partly  open 
door,  and  she  stopped  to — well,  to  listen.  Mrs.  Wood  was 
speaking,  with  little  tearful  sniffs  for  punctuation- 
nuirks. 

''  Yes,  Doctor  Lance,  as  you  say, it  is  a  very  queer  will, 
ler.ving  so  much  to  these  two  foundlings  as  to  his  own  flesh 
and  blood  ;  but  then  poor  dear  llugii  always  was  odd  and 
romantic,  and  fond  of  reading  novels,  and  I  dare  sj'.y  ho 
took  his  sentiinental  notions  from  them.  Five  tliousand 
apiece  he  left  them,  and  if  either  one  dies  before  the  other, 
the  survivor  get*'  lier  portion,  too  !  •' 

''  Melodramatic,  very  !  "  said  the  displeased  tjnes  of 
the  little  professor.  ''  Xo  man  in  his  senses  should  have 
made  such  a  will." 

'•And,  if  bolli  die  before  attaining  their  majority,  the 
ten  thousand  is  to  be  divided  equally  between  my  Ihizd  and 
Umi  Forest.  lie  left,  besides,  a  letter,  with  iialf  a  d<jzen 
seals  on  it,  for  these  twins,  to  be  given  them  tlie  day  they 
arc  twenty-one,  or  should  either  one  get  married  before 
that  age,  to  be  given  her  the  day  before  the  wedding." 

'*' jMelodramatic  auain  !  You  have  found  out  notliins: 
more  about  those  twiiis,  I  suppose  'i" 

''  Xothing  at  all  ;  and  do  you  know.  Doctor  Lance,  ever 
since  I  heard  the  will,  1  liavc  been  thinking  that  perhaps 
tlie  note  we  found  with  them  t  jld  the  truth,  and  that  they 
really  and  truly  were  poor  JTiigirs  grandchildren." 

**  I  don't  doubt  it  in  the  least,"  said  Doctor  Lance,  with 
a  sardonic  snort  ;  ''  never  did,  from  the  lirst.  Any  one 
with  eyes  in  tiieir  head  could  see  the  llazelwood  paternity 
in  those  small  faces  !  Well,  my  girl,  where  are  the  chil- 
dren ?  " 

This  last  question  was  addressed  to  Una,  who  entered 
at  the  moment. 

''  Coming,  sir  ;  their  nurse  will  fetch  tliem  in  directly. 
Oh,  there's  the  ]M,)stnuin  !  " 


y> 


STOLEN. 


87 


There  was  a  lond  knock  at  the  front  door.  Una  ran  ont 
and  returned  witli  a  single  letter. 

*'  It's  for  you,  auntie,  and  in  Arthur's  writing  !  Some- 
thing wonderful  must  have  happened  to  make  that  lazy 
fellow  write." 

Something  wonderful  evidently  had  happened  ;  for,  as 
Mrs.  AVood  tore  it  open,  and  read  it  without  ceremony,  on 
the  spot,  she  uttered  a  shrill  scream  of  astonishment. 

"  (jiood  gracious,  auntie  !  what  is  it  ?  "  cried  the  startled 
Una  ;  "  has  anything  befallen  Arthur  or " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Una,  will  you  " — exclaimed  Mrs. 
Wood,  in  a  high  state  of  excitement — "  until  I  read  it 
again  I     It  seems  a  great  deal  too  good  to  be  true  !  " 

''Oh,  it's  not  bad  news,  then  !"  sai<l  Una,  looking  re- 
lieved, while  Mrs.  Wood  read  it  eagerly  again,  with  a  face 
all  aglow  with  surprise  and  delight. 

"  Well,  I  do  declare  ;  such  a  piece  of  good  fortune 
never  was  heard  of  !  "  was  her  cry  at  the  end  of  the  second 
perusal.  "  Here,  Doctor  Lance,  read  it  and  see  what  ho 
s?ys.'' 

Doctor  Lance  took  the  letter,  adjusted  his  spectacles, 
and  read  it  aloud. 

*'DEAJt  ArxT  : — There  has  just  been  a  letter  from 
England,  addressed  to  my  father,  announcing,  the  death 
of  his  cousin,  Mark  Ilazehvood,  of  Ilazelwood,  County 
Essex.  The  letter  conies  from  the  family  soli(  itor,  invit- 
ing my  father,  as  next  of  kin,  to  come  and  take  })ossessiou 
of  the  estate,  or,  in  case  of  his  decease,  his  eldest  son,  or 
next  heir.  Conway  being  absent,  and  no  news  of  his 
whereabouts,  I  start  immediately  for  England  to  attend  to 
matters,  and  try  and  discover  Conway.  I  shall  write  to 
you  from  there.  Yours,  A.  Hazklwood." 

"  And  in  case  he  does  not  find  Conway,  ho  is  heir  him- 
self to  one  of  the  finest  estates  in  the  country,"  said  J)r. 
Lance,  folding  the  letter.  "  1  don't  think  Mr.  Arthur 
will  die  broken-hearted  if  his  crack-skulled  elder  brother 
never  turns  up." 

"  1  never  heard  of  such  a  piece  of  I  nek  in  all  my  days,** 
said  Mrs.  Wood.  "I  wish  he  would  send  for  me  to  keep 
house  for  him.  They  say  it's  a  beautiful  })lace,  and  1  al- 
ways did  want  to  visit  old  England." 

*'  Conway  is  the  heir,  and  after  him  his  children,"  said 


iti 


88 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


11  i 

I  n 


I 


Doctor  Lance  ;  '*  so,  if  these  twins  should  actually  luippeu 
to  be —  Oil,  here  they  are  !  " 

Jane  entered  with  Miss  Hazel  Wood  (happily-chosen 
name)  and  tlie  Misses  Rosamond  and  Evangeline  Starr ; 
all  three  with  faces  rosy  and  shining  from  the  combined 
clfects  of  good  health  and  a  recent  severe  application  of 
soap  and  water. 

Doctor  Lance  took  very  little  notice  of  Hazel,  but  he 
bent  his  black  brows  and  puckered  up  his  lips  in  his  pecu- 
liar way,  as  he  looked  keenly  at  the  twins. 

"The  black  eyes  and  curls,  the  fresli  complexion,  san- 
guine temperament  and  well-cut  features  of  Conway,"'  he 
said,  rellectiveiy.  "  Madam,  these  little  girls  will  one  day 
be  the  heiresses  of  the  Hazelwoods.  There,  nurse,  you 
may  take  them  away  again  ! " 

'"  I  want  the  cake,  Una!  I  sha'n't  go  without  tlie 
caki,  !  "  cried  out  Hazel,  as  she  was  being  led  away  ;  and 
Una  followed  to  keep  l^r  j)romise. 

Doctor  Lance  took  his  hat  to  go,  when  they  left  the 
room,  declining  j\L's.  Wood's  ])ressing  invitation  to  stay  for 
tea. 

"  I  am  going  to  New  York  by  the  five  o'clock  train,  and 
must  start  for  the  depot  at  once.  H  1  liave  time  I  will  run 
down  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  to  see  how  you  and  my 
wards — confound  them  ! — are  getting  on.     Good  day  !" 

Mrs.  Wood  escorted  him  out  of  doors,  watched  him  out 
of  sight,  and  then  went  back  to  find  Una  and  talk  over  the 
last  wonderful  event. 

''What  a  romantic  thing  it  would  be,  Una,  if  these 
twins  should  indeed  turn  out  to  be  Conway's  children,  and 
after  awhile  come  to  inherit  all  his  great  estate  !  It  would 
be  like  a  story  in  a  novel — wouldn't  it  now  ?  " 

Una  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  smiled  contemptuously. 

''And  such  things  only  ha]ipen  in  novels,  auntie  !  I 
dare  say  they  belong  to  some  washerwoman,  who  stole  the 
tine  clothes  she  sent  them  here  in.  1'here  tiiey  are  now, 
and  Hazel's  tearing  their  hair  out  in  handfuls,  while  Jane's 
looking  for " 

"For  what?"  said  ^Irs.  Wood,  looking  out  into  the 
garden,  where  the  nurse  and  her  charges  were  dispoi  ting 
themselves  in  the  sunshine. 

"  For  what  she  won't  find."  said  Una,  turning  to  leave 
the  room  ;  "  for  an  old  woman  1  sent  about  aer  business  ! 


STOLEN. 


89 


I  must  ^0  and  practice  now,  or  my  music-teacher  will  read 
me  a  lecture  the  next  time  she  comes." 

Una  went  down  to  tlie  piano  and  commenced  her  i>rac- 
ticing,  dreaming  not  that  Jane  and  the  old  woman  were 
at  that  very  moment  in  close  and  confidi'ntial  confab  ; 
while  Hazel  Wood,  all  unheeded,  was  making  the  life  of 
the  twins  a  misery  to  them  by  her  tormenting  praidcs. 
Three  quarters  of  an  hour  after,  while  she  was  deep  in  the 
"  Wedding  March,"  a  piercing  shriek,  aiul  then  another 
and  another,  from  the  garden  nnide  her  si)ring  from  the 
music-stool,  aghast.  A  flying  tigure,  with  wild  eyes  and 
terror-stricken  face,  holding  a  child  in  each  arm,  tore  up 
the  gravel  walk  and  into  the  liall,  still  scrcjiming  in  wildest 
terror.  It  was  Jane  with  Hazel  and  one  of  the  twins,  and 
both  were  echoing  her  frantic  shrieks. 

''  For  Heaven's  sake,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  Una  cried. 
*' Where's  the  other  child  ?" 

'*  Oh,  Miss  Una  !  she's  gone  !  she's  gone  !  "  shrieked 
Jane  ;  she's  lost  forever  I " 

"  Lost  !     What  do  you  mean  ?     Have  you  gone  nuid  ? '* 

'^  Oh,  ]\[iss  I'mi  !  it  was  that  old  wonnin  !  Oh,  what 
shall  I  do  ?     Oh,  Miss  Una  I  the  child's  stole  I" 

"  Stolen  !  Whatever  do  you  mean  ?  Has  that  wretched 
old  hag  kidnapjK'd " 

''Yes,  Miss  Una!  she's  kidnapped  one  of  the  twins, 
while  I  came  up  the  back  way  to  the  house  for  some  money 
to  pay  her  I     Oh,  what  shall  I  do  I  what  shall  I  do  I" 

"■  It's  Kosie,  Kosie,"  piped  the  small  voice  of  Hazel, 
^'  it's  Rosie  she  took  ;  and  she  wanted  to  take  Evey,  too, 
oidv  she  couldn't  carry  both." 

Una  stood  still,  a  strange  light  in  her  eyes,  a  strange 
compression  al)Out  her  lips.  Jane's  cry  still  rung  out 
while  she  twisted  her  hair  as  ii\  utter  tci'ror. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  Ido  1  what  shall  I  do  !  Oh,  Miss  T'na, 
whatever  shall  1  do  I  " 

Her  cries  had  Ijrought  the  rest  of  the  household  to  the 
spot  by  this  time,  and  Una  spoke  at  last. 

"  Search  must  be  made  for  the  old  wretch,  at  once,  in 
every  direction  :  crvinff  and  twistinji;  your  lingers  won't 
mend  matters  now  !  xVnd  1  hope,'"  was  the  thought  ni  iier 
heart,  ''  that  it  never  will  be  mended  !  It's  the  very  best 
thing  that  could  have  happened." 


.    I 


I: 


It; 


90 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


1 

1 

1 

1     '' 

f 

i       !] 

1 

; 

i      i' 

i    '■! 

ii        1'. 

CHAPTER  XI. 


EVE. 


If     : 


Fifteen  years  !  Don't  start,  dear,  i"»atient  reader  ;  you 
liavc  waded  with  me  tlirough  tlie  last  ten  chapters,  and  in 
my  deep  j^Tatitnde  for  that,  I  will  not  allliet  you  with  any 
moralizing  on  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  deaths  and  births, 
the  ups  and  downs  tliat  are  sure  to  checker  this  changeful 
and  feverish  life  of  ours  in  lifteen  long  years.  Long  !  yes, 
a  long  time  to  look  forward  to — very,  very  short  to  look 
back  upon  ;  and  now,  coming  with  me,  you  will  look  upon 
a  new  scene,  a  little  less  dark  and  tragic  than  those  we 
liave  gazed  on  heretofore. 

It  is  a  June  evening  ;  and  fifteen  years  lie  between  it 
and  that  other  June  evening,  on  wliich  Una  Forest's  blue 
eyes  glittered  triumphantly,  looking  out  on  the  dusty 
highroad,  in  search  of  the  stolen  cliild.  The  sky  is  as 
blue  and  cloudless,  but  the  sinking  sun  is  sliining  on  an- 
other village,  many  a  mile  away.  Xo  thrifty  Quaker  vil- 
lage this,  with  its  corner-groceries,  its  busy  raihviiy-sta- 
tion,  its  freshly-painted  meeting-houses,  and  mechanics' 
institutes,  with  its  streets  all  life  and  bustle,  and  the  sign 
of  the  almighty  dollar  everywhere.  Xo  ;  this  voiceless 
village  lies  under  the  shadow  of  giant  pines  and  towering 
tamaracs,  hushed  in  stagnant  stillness;  it  has  quaint  little 
cottages  with  gardens  in  front,  where  purple  lilacs  and 
golden  laburnums  bloom  ;  and  tlie  women  who  gossip  at 
garden-gates,  with  long  gold  earrings  dangling  under  the 
silk  handkerchiefs  knotted  utuler  their  cliins,  speak  a  glib- 
ber and  more  vivacious  language  than  you  ever  hear 
'' down  East."  A.  (piecr-looking  old  stone  church,  and  a 
queer-looking  old  ston(^  convent,  l)oth  surmounted  by  tall 
crosses,  bespeak  the  faith  of  the  inhabitants.  It  is  the 
Church  and  the  Convent  of  the  Holy  Cross  ;  the  village 
itself  is  called  St.  Croix;  the  river  sparkling  in  the  dis- 
tance is  the  beautiful  St.  Lawrence  ;  and  you  and  I  are  in 
Lower  Canada. 

The  Convent  of  the  Holy  Cross,  whose  bell  is  now  ring- 


EVE. 


91 


iiig  the  Evening  Angelas,  stands  on  a  liillsiilo  at  some 
distance  from  tlie  village.  Tiiero  is  only  one  otiiur  dwell- 
ing near  it — a  building  as  large  as  itself,  much  more  mod- 
ern in  structure,  with  extensive  and  beautiful  groumls 
around  it,  and  inclosed  by  a  high  wall.  The  wall  and  liie 
massive  iron  gates  have  ratlier  the  look  of  a  prison,  and  a 
jirison  it  is  to  some  of  its  inmates  ;  but  on  the  silver  door- 
ph;te  you  will  find  a  different  story  :  "  Madtmic  Momtn, 
J\'/isiij)inui  Ax  Dv.<imoiseUes."  The  most  stylish  and  ex- 
clusive of  country  schools,  fifty  pu])ils  only  admitUnl.  as 
lis  rules  tell  you — thirtv  boarders,  and  twentv  r.r/cn/rs  as 
day-scholars.  T'here  are  some  wealthy  (Janadian  and 
English  families  in  8t.  Croix,  and  these  day-scholars  are 
their  ehildren.  The  boarders  come  from  all  parts — I'ng- 
land,  the  United  States,  the  Provinces,  but  chielly  from 
Montreal.  There  are  half  a  dozen  female  teaehers  who 
live  in  the  ;>*^;i.s'/o;/^;7^/',  licsides  four  or  five  professors,  of 
the  sterner  sex,  who  come  and  go  to  give  lessons.  These 
gentlemen  come  from  Montreal — it  is  near  enough  to  the 
city  for  that — the  cars  take  them  in  less  than  two  hours  ; 
and  nothing  masculine,  with  the  exception  of  an  over- 
grown tomcat,  resides  within  its  sanctified  walls,  conse- 
crated by  the  presence  of  jevufs  fiUcx,  innocence,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  Jean  Baptisto,  the  surly  old  gardener, 
sleeps  in  his  lodge,  near  the  entrance-gates,  with  his  son 
Amadee,  who  acts  as  porter  ;  and  Loup,  the  large  Can- 
adian wolf-  "^und,  has  his  kennel  under  the  tamaracs. 
Madame  is  a  widow,  a  Parisienne,  and  drags  out  a  dreary 
existence  in  Canada,  because  she  is  making  her  fortune, 
and  intends  to  go  back  by  and  by  to  belle  Paris  to  spend 
it  and  her  old  age  in  luxury. 

The  ])layground  of  the  school  is  behind  the  house;  a 
large  place,  with  a  gymnasium,  lots  of  swings,  and  with 
benches  under  the  trees  for  the  weary  ones  to  rest.  Ma- 
dame calls  it  the  "  roicr  do  drrriere."  She  never  speaks 
English,  and  French  is  the  language  of  the  school — the 
only  language,  in  fact,  the  majority  of  its  pu]»ils  can 
speak.  They  try  English  now  and  then  ;  but  they  mince 
and  munch  the  speech  of  Albion  fearfully  through  their 
Canadian  teeth,  and  fall  bacik  on  their  own  oily  and  glib 
French,  with  a  "  Dim  7ncrri !  "  of  ineffable  relief. 

There  is  life  enough  in  the  cour  de  derriere  now,  for  the 
externes  have  gone  lioine,  and  the  pensiunnairc^  are  eu- 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  M580 

(716)  872-4503 


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92 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


joying  tlicir  evening  rotigS  before  the  supper-bell  rings. 
Thirty  girls,  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  of  all  age.-  from  eigiit 
to  twenty,  all  dressed  alike  in  the  week-day  school  uni- 
form ;  gray  alpaca  dress,  liigli-necked  and  long-sleeved, 
with  neat  linen  collars  and  cuffs,  and  bhick-silk  aprons 
with  cunning  pockets.  All  sorts  of  girls,  tall  and  short, 
2)retty  and  ugly;  girls  with  curls,  girls  with  braids,  girls 
with  nets  ;  and  girls  with  their  liair  cropped  short,  otiier- 
wise  "shingled.'*'  You  niay  know  the  Canadians  by  their 
dark  skiii,  thi'ir  black  eyes,  and  tarry  tresses  ;  the  Englisli 
and  Americans  by  their  fairer  complexions  and  lighter 
bair  and  eyes  ;  but  among  the  tints  the  "  brune  "  decided- 
ly predominates  over  the  blonde.  Some  are  developing 
tlieir  muscle  at  tlie  gymnasium  ;  some  are  swinging  ;  sonio 
liave  skipping  ropes  ;  some  are  playing"  Prisoner's  Base  ;'* 
some  are  dancing  ;  some  are  singing  ;  some  are  in  groups, 
talking  ;  all  are  united  in  one  thing,  making  as  much 
noise  as  they  can,  and  deafening  the  tympanums  of  teach- 
ers who  are  overseeing  the  ui)roarious  mass. 

All  but  one.  Apart  from  all  the  rest  of  the  tumultuous 
lierd,  under  the  feathery  branches  of  a  tall  tamarac,  a  gii'l 
is  standing  alone,  leaning  against  the  ti'ce,  and  watching 
the  sunset  witli  lier  heart  in  her  eyes.  8he  is  not  a  Cana- 
dienne,  thougli  no  Canadienne  ever  had  eyes  more  glori- 
ously dark  and  luminous,  nor  more  sliining  raven  ringlets 
than  those  falling  loose  half  way  to  her  wiiist.  A  beautiful 
face,  so  young,  so  fresb,  so  blootning,  the  oval  che(>ks 
aglow  with  health,  tlie  pretty  month  of  scarlet  bloom,  the 
black,  arching  eyebrows,  nearly  meeting  above  tbe  aquiline 
nose,  the  hi-oad,  thoughtful  brow,  and  the  rounded  chin, 
fair  and  full  of  character.  A  beautiful  face,  proud  ami 
spirited — you  could  see  tbat  by  the  lofty  way  it  was  carried  ; 
a  beautiful  form,  light,  slender,  and  girlish,  as  became  its 
owner's  sixteen  years  ;  tall  for  that  age,  too  ;  and  the  hand 
playing  with  the  gi'een  branches  dainty  enough  to  be  Hebe's 
own.  She  wore  the  sober  uniform  of  the  school,  but  it 
became  her,  as  anvthing  must  have  become  such  a  iiouro 
and  face.  She  had  a  nickname  in  school.  "  La  Brincesse.'' 
and  she  looked  a  princess  to  her  iinger-tips.  A  portfolio 
lay  at  her  feet  ;  with  })encils  and  brushes  she  liad  been 
sketching  the  sunset,  but  was  oidy  thinking  now. 

"  Eve  !  Eve  llazelwood  !  I  say,  Eve,  where  are  you  ?" 
ii  shrill  falsetto  voice  cried,  in  English. 


EVE. 


93 


10 


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It  aroused  the  girl  from  her  reverie,  and  she  looked 
around. 

A  plump  little  damsel,  with  rosy  clieeks,  briglit,  brown 
eyes,  like  a  bird's,  and  two  long  braided  pigtails  streaming 
down  her  back,  liad  doubldl  up  a  fat  little  list  like  a  trum- 
pet, and  was  sliouting  through  it. 

"  Me  void  / "'  said  the  young  lady  witli  the  blank  ring- 
lets, in  a  clear,  sweet  voice.  "Here,  Hazel;  uiuler  tlie 
tamuracs. " 

"  And  what  are  you  doing  under  the  tamaracs  ?  At 
your  everlasting  drawing,  I  suppose?''  said  the  plump 
young  lady,  wlio,  though  three  years  the  senior  of  her 
companion,  looked  three  years  the  junior,  and  certainly 
was  that  many  vears  her  junior  in  sense. 

''Xo,  iixf  c/iere  ;  oidy  thinking." 

Hazel  Wood,  no  longer  a  child  of  three,  but  a  young 
lady  of  eighteen,  flung  herself  on  the  grass,  and  looked  up 
in  her  companion's  face. 

^'Thinking's  something  I  despise,  and  wouldn't  be 
guilty  of  it  at  any  price.  You  had  better  look  out,  Eve, 
or  all  the  blood  will  go  to  your  head,  and  you'll  die  of 
apoplexy,  or  a  rush  of  ideas  to  the  brain.  What  were  you 
ruminating  on  now,  pray  ? — Greek  verl)s  or  Hebrew  de- 
clensions, or  to-morrow's  proposition  in  Algein-a,  or  the 
end  of  the  world,  or  what  we  are  going  to  have  for  supper, 
or " 

"  There  !  that's  enough  !  Nothing  of  the  sort.  I  was 
just  thinking  how  swiftly  time  flies." 

"  You  solemn  old  ninny  !  I  knew  it  was  something 
dismal  !  You  and  What's-his-name,  Diogenes,  ought  to 
have  hung  out  in  the  same  tub.  Swiftly  time  flies,  iiuleed  ! 
Every  day's  like  a  month  in  this  stupid  old  barr.ick  I  " 

'M)o  you  know  what  day  this  is,  Ha^el  ?" 

"'  Let's  see  !  To-morrow's  half  holida\',  aiid  we  crot  clean 
clothes  this  morning,  so  it  must  be  Wediiesday." 

"I  didn't  mean  that — the  day  of  the  month  ?" 

"Oh?  then  I  haven't  the  flrst  idea.  IMy  worst  enemy 
never  can  accuse  me  of  knowing  whether  it's  the  flrst  or 
the  last." 

"Shall  I  tell  you  ?  It's  the  tvventy-nintli  of  June,  and 
the  anniversary  of  our  coming  here.  Just  six  years  to-day 
since  you  and  I  came  here  first." 

"  And  wo  are  likely  to  stay  here  six  more,  for  all  I  cuu 


I 


hi 


94 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I  i  i 


I 


see  to  the  contrary.  I  declare,  I  am  growing  an  old  maid 
in  this  place,  and  no  prospect  of  leaving  it  !  That  old 
savage,  Doctor  Lance,  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself, 
keeping  us  here  just  to  be  out  of  the  way  !  A  pretty 
guardian  he  is  !  and  a  pretty  relation  ^h\  Arthur  Hazel- 
wood  is,  rolling  in  splendor  in  England,  and  leaving  us 
here  to  go  melancholy  mad  if  we  choose  !  I  tell  you  what 
it  is,  Eve,  Fm  getting  desperate,  and  shall  do  something 
shortly  that  will  shake  society  to  its  utmost  foundations, 
if  somebody  docs!i't  take  me  out  of  this  I " 

Eve  was  silent.  The  luminous  dark  eyes  were  gazing  at 
the  sunset,  mistv  and  dreamv. 

'•  Six  years  I  How  short  it  seems  !  It  is  like  yesterday, 
Hazel,  since  we  stood  at  your  mother's  dying  bed,  and  I 
received  from  her  hand  that  strange  packet,  left  for  mo 
by  tlie  uncle  whom  I  never  saw." 

Hazel's  rosy,  cliubljy  face  sobered  suddenly. 

"  Oh,  poor  mamma  !  How  we  both  cried  that  day  ! 
V>y  tlio  way,  Eve,"  jumping  with  a  jerk  to  another  topic, 
*'  1  wonder  how  Una  Forest  gets  on  in  England  ?  I  think 
it  was  a  very  shabby  trick  in  cousin  Arthur  to  seiul  for  her 
when  mamma  died,  and  leave  us  poor  Babes  in  the  Wood 
to  the  mercy  of  that  cross-grained  little  monster,  Doctor 
Lance,  and  that  tiresome,  snuff-taking  old  Frenchwoman, 
]\laihime  ]\[oreau.     Tliere  !" 

'*  Hazel,  hush  !  We  have  no  reason  to  complain  of 
Doctor  Lance.  He  is  rather  crabbed,  I  allow  ;  but  he 
means  well,  and  is  as  good  to  iisas  it  is  in  his  nature  to  be 
to  anyone.  Xo  one  could  be  kinder  than  he  during  my 
illness  this  spring." 

"•  1  don't  believe  you  were  half  so  ill  as  you  pretended," 
said  Hazel,  testily.  *'  It  was  all  a  ruse  to  get  back  to  Xcvv 
York  and  enjoy  yourself.  Dear,  delightful  Xew  York  ! 
I  would  sham  sick  myself  to  get  back  there  ;  but  whore's 
the  use  ?  Xobody  will  believe  me  while  my  cheeks  keep 
so  horrid  red,  and  my  appetite  continues  so  powerful  ? 
What  blessed  times  we  used  to  have  promenading  Broad- 
Avay  every  afternoon,  and  will  have  again,  when  vacation 
comes,  i)lease  tlie  pigs  !  Well,  Kate  Schalfer  !  AVhat  do 
you  want  ?" 

*'  I  know  what  you  want,  Miss  Hazel  Wood,"  replied 
Kate    Schalfcr,  a   tali,  stylish-looking   girl,  with  a  dark, 


IP^ 


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Canadian  face,  thongli  speaking  excellent  English,  '^and 
that  is,  a  little  manners  !  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Eve,  laughing,  '•'manners  and  cousin  Hazel 
might  be  married,  for  they  are  no  relation. '^ 

Miss  Hazel,  no  way  discomposed  by  these  left-handed 
compliments,  sat  lazily  up  on  the  grass. 

"  Is  it  near  tea-time,  Kate  ?  I  smelt  hot  biscuit  awhile 
ago,  when  I  applied  my  nose  to  the  kitchen  donkey-hole, 
but  my  prophetic  soul  is  inclined  to  the  notion  that 
Madame  has  company,  and  they're  not  for  us."' 

"  Your  prophetic  soul  has  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head, 
then,"  said  Miss  Schalfer.  ''  Madame  has  company,  and 
you  are  doomed  to  the  stale  bread  of  everyday  existence  as 
usual." 

Hazel  sighed,  and  gave  a  dejected  roll  over  on  the  grass. 

*'I  have  just  come  from  the  parlor,  though,"  said  Kate, 
looking  at  her,  ''and  I've  got  something  for  you  better 
than  hot  biscuit." 

"I  don't  believe  it  I  There's  nobody  to  send  me  plum- 
cake,  and  that's  the  only  thing  in  this  w^orld  I  do  like 
better." 

"Except,"   sa'd    Kate,  still   eyeing   her,    ^*  my   cousin 

TtUl. 

Ilazol  suddenly  sprung  up  from  the  grass,  as  if  she  had 
been  gtQvanizcd.     Her  eves  dilated,  her  whole  face  aglow. 

"  Oil,  Kate  !     Has  Paul  come  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  I  thought  that  would  do  it,"  said  Miss  Schaifer, 
coolly.  "  Paul's  better  than  plum-cake,  is  he  ?  Oh,  yes  ; 
he's  come,  and  so  has  mamma  and  IVIonsieur  D'xVrville  ; 
and  they^re  all  going  to  stay  and  take  tea  with  ^ladame, 
and  it's  for  them  the  hot  biscuit  are,  and  you'll  never  taste 
tliem." 

liut  the  hot  biscuit  had  lost  their  attraction.  Hazel 
stood  with  parted  lips,  her  color  coming  and  going,  look- 
ing at  Kate. 

And  Kate  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  Do  look  at  her,  Eve  I  and  all  about  that  fo])pish  noodle, 
Paul  Schalfer.  The  gods  fovefond  that  I  should  full  in 
love,  if  it  is  going  to  make  me  act  like  that.     I  must  go." 

She  drew  out  of  her  pocket  a  little  triangular  note, 
threw  it  to  Hazel,  and  sauntered  olf. 

In  a  second,  Hazel  had  torn  it  open  and  devoured  its 
contents,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  sparkling. 


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96 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


As  she  looked  up  in  a  rapture  at  its  ocuclusion,  she 
found  the  dark  hright  eyes  of  Kvo  fixed  full  upon  her. 

"  Oh,  Eve  !  lie  wants  me  to " 

^' Well,"  said  Eve,  gravely,  ^'he  wants  you  to  do 
what  ?  " 

JInzcl  pouted. 

*'  Yoirre  nothing  but  a  stiff  old  prude  I  I  shan't  tell 
you  !     Oh,  there's  the  bell  !     Come  to  supper." 

She  Hew  olf  as  she  spoke,  like  a  lapwing,  tlirusting  the 
note  into  Love's  own  ])ost-oflioe — her  bosom. 

Eve  llazehvood  followed  more  slowlv,  fell  into  the  rank 
with  the  rest,  and  nn;rched  into  the  salle  a  //ta/if/cr,  where 
along  table  was  \ii\d.  ior  tho  thirty  hungvy jtcii^sionnuin'S 
and  the  six  teachers. 

After  supper,  came  study  ;  after  that,  evening  reading 
and  prayers  ;  and  then  the  girls  went  olf  to  their  rooms. 
Every  two  shared  a  chamber,  and  Eve  and  Hazel  had  not 
been  separated  from  the  first.  Very  plainly  these  cliamhres 
a  coiichcr  were  furnished  :  a  painted  floor,  two  small  French 
beds,  with  hardly  room  to  turn  in — but  Madame  Moreau 
was  of  the  same  opinion  as  the  L*on  Duke,  th.at  when  ono 
begins  to  turn  in  bed,  it  is  time  to  turn  out  of  it — a 
washstand,  table,  two  chairs,  and  tvvo  trunks. 

The  room  the  cousins  occu])ied  was  on  the  second  floor, 
and  overlooked  the  playground. 

Eve  set  the  lamp  she  carried  on  the  table,  and  drew 
forth  slate  and  ])encil  to  write  to-morrow's  composition, 
the  subject,  ^'Political  Economy." 

Hazel  did  the  same  ;  but  her  pencil  only  drew  fox  and 
geese,  and  her  mind  was  running  on  a  far  sweeter  subject 
than  dry  "  Political  Economy." 

So  they  sat  opposite  each  other  for  an  hour,  neither 
speaking  a  word,  until,  at  the  loud  ringing  of  the  nine 
o'clock  bell — the  sigiuil  to  extinguish  all  lights  and  go  to 
bed — Eve  looked  u]). 

"  Have  you  finished  ?"  she  asked. 

**Yes — no — I  don't  know,"  stammered  Hazel,  waking 
from  her  day-dreaming. 

*'  Why,  you  haven't  written  a  word !  Why,  Hazel ! 
what  have  you  been  about  ?" 

**0h,  it's  no  odds  !"  said  Hazel,  with  sublime  indiffer- 
ence. 'TU  copy  somebody  else's  to-morrow!  Let's  go 
to  bed  ! " 


t ;:  : 


EVE. 


97 


jel! 


*^We  will  have  to,"  said  Eve,  '^  for  hero  comes  Misa 
Green  for  tlie  light." 

All  uiider-teacher  entered,  took  the  lamp  and  went  out. 
Eve  knelt  down,  said  her  prayers,  nndressed  rapidly,  and 
went  to  bed  ;  but  Hazel  sat  by  the  wimlow,  lool^ing  out 
at  tlie  mooidight,  and  doing  something  very  unusual  with 
her,  tliinking. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  sit  there  all  niglit  ?"  demanded  Eve, 
drowsily,  "'  You  have  got  very  sentimental  all  of  a  sudden, 
watching  the  moon." 

"  I'm  studying  astronomy — that's  all.  Never  you  mind 
me.     I  have  got  very  fond  of  it  lately  ! " 

'^I  should  think  so!  You  won't  have  an  eye  in  your 
head  to-morrow  !     Go  to  sleep  I " 

"Go  vourself  !  "  said  Hazel,  testily,  '^  and  don't 
bother  1  'f 

Eve  did  as  directed,  and  dropped  asleep  ten  minutes 
after.  'I'lie  convent  bell  pealing  eleven  awoke  her  from  a 
vivid  dream  of  seeing  Hazel  drowning,  and  she  started  up 
in  bed,  her  heart  throbbing. 

"■'Oh,  Hazel!  I  have  had  such  a  dream!  Are  you 
asleep  ?" 

Xo,  Hazel  v/as  not  asleep — was  not  in  the  room  at  all  I 
The  full  midnight  moon  shining  in  showed  an  empty  bed, 
a  vacant  cluiir,  and  an  open  window. 

It  all  flashed  on  Eve  at  once  :  she  rose  up  and  went  to 
the  window.  Yes,  there  was  a  rope-ladder,  and  there  were 
two  figures  walking  in  the  moonlight,  under  the  shadows 
of  the  trees — one,  the  tall  form  of  a  man  :  the  other, 
shawled  and  hooded,  Hazel  Wood. 

Eve  went  back  to  her  bed,  hei*  cheeks  burning,  her  lieart 
throbbing.  Ten  minutes  passed,  twenty,  half  an  hour, 
and  then  she  heard  Ha-^el  enter  softly,  and  pause  to  listen 
for  an  instant. 

*^  Good  night,"  Eve  heard  her  breathe  softly  to  some  one 
below,  as  she  shut  the  window.  "  She  is  asleep.  Eare- 
well  until  to-morrow  !  " 

After  which  Miss  Wood  retired  to  rest,  but  not  to  sleep. 
Long  after  Eve  had  dropped  once  more  into  the  iiniocent 
and  untroubled  slumber  that  rarely  comes  after  sixteen, 
seldom  with  boarding-school  damsels  lasts  so  long.  Hazel 
was  tossing  back  and  forth  on  her  pillow,  her  heart  in  a 
tumult  of  delicious  unrest,  and  one  name  ever  on  her  lips  : 


ww^ 


1 1  'i 


ll  J 


t 


98 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


*•'  Dear,  dear,  dear  Paul  I  " 

"  Love  ii.ot !  love  not !  oli,  warning  vainly  said  !  " 

Very  true,  Mrs.  Xorton,  and  one  moth  will  not  take  warn- 
ing by  its  singed  brother,  but  will  flutter  round  the  fiery 
faseination  until  its  own  wings  are  singed,  and  it  has  noth- 
ing lel't  to  do  but  drop  down  and  die.  And  so,  Ilnzel 
Wood,  poor  little  fool  !  dream  on  while  you  may  I  You 
will  pass  through  the  fiery  ordeal,  and  your  darling  Paul 
will  care  just  as  much  as  the  candle  does  I'or  the  moth  ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 


,} 


IS,' 


THE    PEXSIONNAIRES     FETE. 


''  Eve  !  '* 


^MVell?" 

'^  How  long  have  you  been  up,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

^'  Half  an  hour." 

Hazel  Wood  rose  upon  her  elbow  in  bed  with  a  loud 
yawn.  The  morning  sunlight,  streaming  in  through  the 
open  window,  with  the  matin  songs  of  the  birds,  and  the 
sweet  scents  of  lilacs  and  laburnums,  fell  on  Eve  Hazel- 
wood,  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her  toilet  before 
the  glass.  It  was  a  lovely  face  that  glass  reflected  ;  the 
checks  yet  flushed  from  sleep,  her  bright  dark  eyes  so  starry 
and  lustrous,  and  the  profusion  of  glittering,  jetty  ringlets 
falling,  freshly  combed,  in  a  shining  shower  over  her 
shoulders.  Hazel  showed  her  appreciation  of  the  picture 
by  another  prodigious  yawn,  and  a  lazy  roll  over  in  bed. 

*'  How  doth  the  little  busy  bee  improve  each  shining — 
I  say,  Eve,  what  set  you  up  at  such  an  unchristian  hour  ?" 

'•  IL  is  not  an  unchristian  hour.  It  is  half-past  five 
o'clock." 

"^  And  what  do  you  call  tin  t,  I  should  admire  to  know  ? 
Oh,  yaw-w-w  I     I  feel  as  if  I  v'ould  sleep  a  week  !  " 

If  people  go  to  bed  at  proper  hours,"  said  the  pretty 


a 


Wiseacre  before    the    glass,  "  they  will   be  able  to  rise   at 
propel 


hours,  and  not   want   to  lie   stewinef  in  a  hot    bed 


such  a  lovely  morning  as  this 


J? 


\ 


i. 


!l' 


THE  PENSIONNAIRES'  FETE. 


99 


M 


I 


This  hint  was  pretty  broad,  but  ^li.ss  Wood  never  took 
hints.  She  tumbled  lazily  oil:  her  coucli,  and  began  slowly 
and  with  many  yawns  to  dress. 

"  "What  noise  the  birds  are  making  !  "  she  said,  with  a 
dissatisfied  air.     "  Is  the  day  line,  Eve  ? " 

Eve  opened  her  black  eyes  at  thi.,  question,  the  little 
room  being  fairly  Hooded  with  suidiglit. 

*' No,  a  tempest  is  raging — don't  you  see  it?  Are  yon 
sure  you  are  quite  awake,  Miss  Wood  ?" 

'^  Not  so  very,"  said  Hazel,  rubbing  her  eyes,  "  but  I'm 
very  glad  it's  line.  AVe  are  going  to  have  the  jolliest  time 
to-day ,  Eve  I  " 

"  Jolliest  I     'i'hat's  a  nice  word  from  a  young  lady's  lii)s. '' 

'^'  Oh,  bother  !  Ed  be  sorry  to  be  a  young  lady  I  I  tell 
you  we  are  in  for  heaps  of  fun  before  night  I '" 

''Are  we  ? "' said  Eve,  sitting  down  by  the  window, 
where  Hazel  had  sat  last  night,  and  taking  up  her  (iei'imiii 
grammer  ;  "  liow  is  that  ?  '' 

'^  It's  a  half-holiday,  you  know,  anyway,"  said  Hazel, 
vividly  interested  at  once  in  her  subject,  '•  and  what's 
more,  it's  Kate  Schaffer's  birthday,  and  her  mamma  is  go- 
ing to  give  a  gniwl  fehi  t'liampetre  this  afternoon,  in  their 
grounds,  f^nd  all  the  girls  Kate  likes  are  to  be  invited." 

'* Indeed  !     Kate  said  nothing  about  it  yesterday." 

'' Eor  a  very  good  reason — she  knew  nothing  about  it, 
and  does  not  yet.  It  was  that  brought  Madame  Scluill'er 
here  last  evening,  and  Madame  Moreau  gave  permission, 
of  course — catch  her  refusing  the  rich  Schaifers  anything 
— and  Kate  is  to  be  told  this  afternoon  I" 

Eve  fixed  her  powerful  dark  eyes  on  Hazel's  radiant 
face. 

"  And  how  did  you  find  it  out,  may  I  ask  ?" 

**  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Hazel,  pettishly,  but  with  the  guilty 
scarlet  mounting  to  her  face,  "that's  my  secret  I  Per- 
haps I  dreamt  it,  or  })erhaps  a  little  bird  told  me, 
or " 

'•  Or  more  likely  Mr.  Paul  SchalTer  told  you  hist  night." 

Hazel  suddeidy  dropped  the  hair  brush  she  was  using, 
and  stood  confounded. 

''Eve!" 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  it,  my  dear  I  How  the  note  yes- 
terday made  the  appointment  ;  how  you  sat  u[)  last  night 
at   this  window  watching  him  until  you  saw  him  enter  the 


":!| 


-^^^ 


Ht    ':! 


III 


;'ii:.' 


r           1' 

:j          .    t       i' 

1           1         '■ 

i!    I;    :' 

1 

iii   111  ill 

100 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


groniuls  ;  liow  he  sui>i)liocl  you  witli  a  rope-ladtler  ;  and 
how  you  luul  uu  interview  with  him,  and  got  back  here 
about  niidniglit  I  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  tell  tibs.  I 
was  not  asleep,  though  you  thought  so  !  " 

*'  Ard  you  stayed  awake  to  play  the  sj)y  upon  me  I  Evo 
lliizelwood " 

"You  know  Ijetter  tlnin  that  !  I  was  asleep  when  you 
left  the  room  ;  but  I  awoke,  missed  you,  found  the  window 
open,  and  made  use  of  my  eyes — tlnit  is  all.  AVhat  am  I 
to  think  of  siieli  conduct,  Cousin  Hazel  ?" 

"  AVhat  you  please,  Cousin  Eve  !" 

*' Are  vou  not  ashamed  ?*^ 

^'  Not  the  least  !" 

One  of  Eve's  feet  was  beating  and  excited  tattoo  on  the 
^tainted  floor,  and  her  cheeks  were  like  rosy  flame. 

"  Hazel,  are  you  engaged  to  this  num  ^  " 

*'  Now,  now,  Grandmother  Grunty,  I  won't  have  any  of 
your  lecturing.  Engaged  !  fiddlesticks  I  Can't  one  en- 
joy a  schoolgirl  flirtation  without  being  so  dowdyish  as  to 
get  engaged  ?  You're  the  greatest  goose.  Eve  Ilazclwood, 
that  ever  wore  crinoline  !" 

Eve  opened  her  grammar  silently  ;  her  lips  compressed, 
her  cheeks  more  deeply  flushed. 

'^  And  now  you're  cross,"  broke  out  Miss  Wood,  resent- 
fully, Avho  liked  her  cousin  to  be  in  a  talking  mood,  even 
when  she  talked  to  chide.  "  Now,  will  you  tell  me  where's 
the  very  great  crime  in  what  I've  done.  All  schoolgirls 
flirt,  and  why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

^^  Shoolgirls  have  no  business  to  flirt,  then  ;  least  of  all, 
v/itli  such  men  as  this  Paul  Schaffer." 

''  This  Paul  SchafPer  I ''  still  more  resentfuUv.  "  Don't 
you  say  anything  against  him,  Miss  llazelwood,  if  you 
want  to  be  i'riends  with  me.  Y^'ou  don't  know  him,  and  so 
have  no  right  to  speak  !  " 

*'  It  is  because  I  am  your  friend  I  do  speak.  As  for 
knowing,  it  is  true  I  never  saw  him  ;  but  from  what  you 
and  his  cousin  say  of  him,  I  judge  he  is  nothing  but  a  vain, 
conceited  coxcomb."' 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort.  He  may  be  a  little  vain,  I  allow, 
but  then  he  is  as  handsome  as  an  angel.  If  you  were 
good-looking  yourself,  you  would  be  conceited,  too,  I  dare 


sav 


!  " 


Eve  smiled  a  little.     She  knew  perfectly  well  she  was 


:pp' 


THE  PF.NSIONNAIRES'  FETE. 


lOI 


>i 


more  tliaii  good-looking,   but   the  small  sin  of  vanity   was 
not  hers. 

*'  Hazel,  take  care  I  You  nniy  be  sorry  some  day.  If 
I  were  you  I  would  liave  nothing  to  do  witli  Paul  Scli Mirer.'' 

*' Of  course  you  wouldn't,"  said  JIazel,  with  a  sneer, 
and  brushing  hor  brown  hair  furiously.  "  "Nothing  less 
than  a  king  on  liis  throne,  or  a  hero  of  a  novel,  wonUl 
suit  La  Princesse.  Tliey  say  the  i'rince  of  Wales  will 
visit  Canada  this  summer  ;  perhaps  you  might  condescend 
to  marry  liim." 

Eve  smiled  again,  and  lifted  her  beautiful  head  with  a 
gesture  graceful  aiul  proud. 

'^' I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  ma  rj/cre  ;  certainly  I  would 
not  if  I  had  no  otlier  reason  than  liis  being  Prince  of 
Wales.  Ik'sides,"  with  a  laugh,  "Paul  Shalfer  is  a  (Jer- 
man.  Would  you  marry  a  sourkrout-eating,  Inger-beer 
drinking,  meerschaum-pipe  smoking  Dutchman  ?" 

"  Queen  Victoria  married  one.  I  don't  pretend  to  be 
above  my  betters." 

''  Well,  please  yourself,'"'  said  Eve,  rising  at  the  sound 
of  a  bell  ringing  a  rousing  reveille  to  the  noisy  pu})ils, 
''  and  then  you  won't  die  in  a  pet.  ^lake  haste  down- 
stairs, or  you  will  be  marked  ^  late,'  as  usual  I  " 

Hazel  had  no  need  to  warn  Eve  not  to  tell  ;  she  knew 
her  too  well  for  that.  She  did  hurry  down-stairs,  and  met 
the  other  iwuslonnaircs  tearing  like  comets  through  the 
corridors  and  down  stairs  to  morning  prayers,  jerking 
aprons  and  collars  straight  as  they  went.  There  was  no 
time  for  furtiier  talk  ;  for  after  prayers  came  study  ;  after 
that,  breakfast  ;  and  the  morning  play-hour,  which  fol- 
lowed, was  lost  to  Hazel,  who,  to  her  intense  annoyance, 
was  called  off  to  practice  her  last  music  lesson. 

Thursday  being  a  half-holiday,  the  girls  dined  at  twelve 
— an  hour  earlier  than  usual  ;  and  just  as  the  demi-j^en- 
sionnaires  were  tying  on  their  hats  to  go  home,  Madame 
Moreau,  a  bland  and  dchoiDiaire  Frenchwoman,  sailed  into 
the  classroom  with  a  mighty  rustling  of  silk  flounces,  and 
smiling,  announced  the  delightful  fact  of  the  Schatl'L'r  />7r', 
and  that  all  tlie  young  ladies  invited  by  ^Mademoiselle 
Schaffer  were  at  liberty  to  go. 

"I  want  all  the  girls  in  our  division  to  go,"  sfiid  Kate, 
who,  used  to  petting,  and  all  sorts  of  pleasant  surprises 
from  her  doting  mamnui,  took  the  announcement    very 


\k 


I 


;i 


III  I 


it!:: 


ii 


\l    i    :i  I 


I   I 


11 


|!;    iiv 


i   d.   'I 


102 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


coolly,  ^'aiid,  in  fact,  the  wliole  school,  Madame,  if  yon'U 
lot  thorn  come." 

Madame  graciously  gave  permission,  and  swept  out 
again  :  and  her  departure  was  the  signal  for  an  uproar  that 
would  have  shamed  Babel.  Kate  vSchalfer  was  seized  by 
dozens  of  hands,  and  seemed  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
kissed  to  death. 

"■  There,  there,  girls  !  don't  smother  me  !  "  she  impa- 
tiently cried,  breaking  free.  "^  You  day-scholars  goliomo, 
can't  you,  or  you'll  never  be  in  time,  and  the  rest  of  you 
let  me  alone  !  Eve  Hazel  wood,  where  are  you  ?  I  want 
you.'' 

'*  What  for  ?  to  kiss  you  ?"  Eve  asked,  laughing  at  the 
din. 

Kate  made  a  grimace. 

*•  No,  thank  you.  I  have  had  enough  of  that.  If  there 
is  one  thing  in  this  world  more  sickening  than  another, 
it  is  schoolgirl  kisses.  It  is  worse  than  pepperment  candy, 
and  that  is  tit  for  neither  gods  nor  men.  What  are  you 
going  to  wear  ':'  " 

"  Wliite,  I  suppose.     I  have  nothing  else." 

'^  And  you  know  it  becomes  you.  1  say.  Eve,  Professor 
D'Arville  is  to  be  there,  and  you  mustn't  cut  me  out.'" 

"  Bah  !  is  he  so  handsome,  then  ?  " 

"  Like  an  angel.     All  the  girls  are  wild  about  him." 

"  Oh,  I  know  tliat.  lie  has  been  the  burden  of  all  their 
songs  ever  since  my  return.  Are  there  to  be  many  gentle- 
men ?" 

*'  Half  a  dozen  only.  I  know  all  about  it,  though 
mamma  thinks  1  am  in  a  delightful  state  of  ignorance. 
Monsieur  D'Arville,''  said  Kate,  reckoning  on  her  fingers, 
"he's  one;  Paul  Schaifer  is  two;  brother  Louis  three ; 
and " 

"'  And  there's  the  dinner  bell,  that's  four.  Come 
along  !  "  cried  Hazel  Wood,  rushing  past. 

Immediately  after  dinner,  the  young  ladies  flocked  up 
to  their  rooms  to  dress,  and  in  half  an  hour  reappeared, 
eii  r/rande  tenve — which,  in  English,  means  in  white  mus- 
lin dresses,  streaming  blue  and  rose  ribbons,  and  straw 
flats.  Fairest,  whore  all  were  more  or  less  fair,  Eve 
Hazelwood  stood  in  their  midst  ;  her  thin,  sunny  white 
dress  floating  about  her,  the  rosy  ribbons  less  bright  than 
the  roses  on  her  cheeks,  and  all  her  beautiful  curls,  veiling 


THE  PENSIONNAIRES'  FETE. 


103 


the  planip  white  shoulders,  plainly  tniccablc  under  the 
gauze. 

Two  carriages  were  at  the  door  waiting  ;  and  in  a  high 
state  of  bustle,  delight  and  excitement,  tiiat  we  never  feel 
— moro's  tlie  [)ity  ! — after  our  breiid-and-butter  days,  the 
peusioiUKfirrs  fluttered  in  and  took  tlieir  st'ats.  As  they 
drove  along  the  dirty  hi<,4iroad,  every  cottage  gate,  door 
and  window  were  lined  with  admiring  faces,  for  the  pretty 
schoolgirls  were  the  pride  and  delight  of  St.  Croix  ;  and 
there  were  bowing,  and  smiling,  and  throwing  of  kisses, 
and  wavins;  of  luuulkerchiefs,  until  thev  reached  the  outer 
gate  of  the  Schaffer  mansion.  Over  tlie  gate  there  was  an 
arch  of  evergreens,  with  the  word  "  Welcome,"  in  letters 
made  of  red  and  white  roses  ;  and  here  the  carriages 
stopped,  and  their  fair  inmjites  alighted.  A  troop  of  the 
village  children,  with  baskets  on  their  arms,  went  before 
them,  scattering  flowers  and  singing  tlie  songs  so  popular 
among  the  Jiabitans,  •'*'  Vive  la  Canadieiine." 

"  Oh,  Kate,"  Eve  liazelwood  cried,  as  they  walked  up 
the  broad  avenue  together,  ''  liow  charming  such  a  birth- 
day welcome  is,  and  what  it  is  to  have  a  mother's  love  ! 
I  almost  wish  I  were   a  Canadienno  to-d;iy  I '' 

"•'  1  wouldn't  be  anything  else  for  the  world  !  Look  ! 
there's  mamma  and  a  whole  crowd  of  ladies  and  gentlemen 
over '"' 

Kate's  words  were  drowned  in  a  storm  of  music.  A  band, 
under  a  grove  of  tamaracs.  struck  up  the  national  anthem 
of  Lower  Canada,  ^'  A  la  Claire  FvJiUilni'  /''  .Monsieur  and 
Madame  Schalfer,  at  the  head  of  a  host  of  guests,  came 
forward  to  embrace  their  daughter,  and  Avelcome  their 
friends. 

*' And  where  is  my  pet,  my  beauty,  my  lovely  Ameri- 
can rose?"  ]\L'ulame  cried,  witli  very  French  effusion. 
''  Where  is  my  beautiful  evening  star  ?  " 

*'■  Gracious,  mamma!  don't  be  so  highfalutin  I  Kve, 
come  here  ;  mamma  wants  you  ! " 

"  You  darling  child  !  ''  Madame  exclaimed,  kissing  her 
on  both  cheeks,  ''I  am  enraptured  at  seeing  you  :i:^ain. 
Let  me  look  at  you — they  told  me  you  were  sick,  but  you 
are  blooming  as  a  June  rosebud  I  " 

^'1  am  better,  Madame,"  Eve  said,  with  a  little  laugh 
and  a  viv  id  blush.     ^'  I  am  quite  well  again  I  " 

"  I  don't  believe  she  was  sick  at  all,    mamma.     It  was 


I' 


! 


^v 


I 


n! 


11 


104 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


li 


f 


Ijj  ^^ 


V 


It  ,      '!i 


only  a  ruse,  as  Iluzel  WooJ  says,  to  s^et  back  to  her  dear 
New  York.  She  likes  it  ever  so  mncli  better  than  Mon- 
treal." 

"  Very  bad  taste  011  Mademoiselle's  part,"  said  a  gentle- 
man on  whose  arm  ]Madanie  Schaffer  leaned,  "noisy,  rest- 
le.ss  place  that  it  is  !  One  stroll  down  Notre  Dame  street 
is  worth  a  dozen  Broadway  promenades." 

•^^  Oil,  Monsieur  D^\rvilie,  this  is  the  first  time  you  have 
seen  your  pupil — your  star  pupil,  also — is  it  not  ?  How 
stupid  of  me  !  Mademoiselle  Ilazelwood,  your  future  pre- 
ceptor. Monsieur  D'Arville  !  " 

Eve  dropped  her  eyelashes  and  bowed.  This  then  was 
the  angel  of  Miss  Kate  Schaffer's  dreams — strikingly  hand- 
some, certainly,  witli  a  dark,  colorless,  Creole  face  ;  dark, 
dreamy  eyes,  half  closed,  and  a  little  sleepy-looking  in  re- 
pose, but  that  could  open  and  flash  lire,  too,  when  roused, 
as  a  secoiul  glance  would  tell  you  ;  a  low,  broad  brow  ;  a 
mouth  compressed  and  a  triHo  stern  ;  and  liands  and  feet 
of  most  lady-like  delicacy  and  smallness.  lie  was  not  tall, 
rather  un<ler  the  medium  size,  and  slender  and  boyish 
of  form.  His  lack  of  stature,  his  half-closed  eyes,  and 
rogulai'ity  of  features,  gave  him  a  somewhat  effeminate 
appearace  at  iirst  sight  ;  but  Lavater  could  have  read 
anotlier  story  in  those  thin,  compressed  lips,  that  arched 
and  quivering  nostril,  and  the  flasli  that  now  and  then 
leaped  out  from  under  his  long  eyelashes.  lie  spoke  with 
a  sligiit  accent,  but  in  excellent  English. 

'^  Monsieur  is  a  Canadian,  and  at  liberty  to  like  Xotre 
Dame  street ;  I,  an  American  girl,  w^th  leave  to  adore 
Broadway.     There  is  no  place  like  it  under  the  sun  ! " 

"'  Bravo,  Eve  !  vou  alwavs  were  a  brick,  and  readv  to 
fight  for  the  land  of  Washington  !  How  do  you  find  your- 
self all  these  ages  ?     Pretty  jolly,  I  hope  !  " 

Eve  knew  that  free  and  easy  voice,  and  was  used  to  it ; 
but  with  the  dark  eyes  of  Professor  D'Arville  looking  on,  it 
discomfited  her  for  the  iirst  time.  Siie  turned  round  good- 
naturedly,  though,  to  return  Louis  8cliall'er's  greeting,  and 
gave  the  tall,  boisterous  hol)l)le(le]ioy  to  understand  she 
was  as  jolly  as  could  be  expected. 

*'You  look  like  it!  not  much  like  a  sick  case,  eh! 
AVHiere's  Hazel  ?  She's  the  stunningest  girl  in  iha ^jens  10 n- 
na/ 1  " 

"  There   she   ij  with  cousin  Paul,"  said  Kate  ;    ''  bub 


THE  PENSIONNAIRES*  FETE. 


105 


don't  you  go  bothering  !  She  don't  want  you,  I  can  tell 
you  ! " 

*'  All  right  then  !  "  said  easy  Louis,  strutting  off  ; 
*' there's  lots  more  girls,  and  I'm  going  in  for  a  good  time 
among  them." 

Hazel  did  not  want  him.  Loaning  on  the  arm  of  a  tall, 
fashionably-drossed,  good-looking  young  num,  she  was 
coming  towards  them,  talking  earnestly. 

"  But  she  is  so  pretty,  Paul — so  very,  very  pretty,  I  am 
afraid  you  won't  care  for  me  after  you  see  Eve.'' 

*'  Mv  dear  little  Kazel  !  don't  be  a  f?ooso  !  I  have  heard 
so  much  of  this  fair  cousin  of  yours,  that  I  loci  luiturally 
curious  to  see  her — that  is  all.  I  shan't  like  her  I  know — 
I  never  did  fancy  ice-cream." 

"And  Eve  is  a  prude — cold,  and  sensible  as  a  female 
♦Solomon  !  You  should  have  heard  her  lecture  me  for 
meeting  you  last  night !  " 

"  Did  siie  ?  Give  her  my  compliments  the  next  time 
she  presumes  to  lecture,  and  inform  her  the  eleventh  com- 
mandment is,  '  Mind  your  own  business  ! '" 

"  Oh,  Paul  !  and  you  are  sure,  quite  sure  you  won't  liko 
her  better  than  me  ?  She  is  so  pretty,  and  you  admire 
beauty  so  much  !  " 

"Bah!  'The  girl  that  all  are  ])raising  is  not  the  girl 
for  me.'  I  have  seen  the  Venus  Celestis  in  mar))le  and  oil 
colors,  hundreds  of  times,  and  I  never  fell  in  love  witli  it 
yet.  I  tell  you  1  don't  like  )iO)inetti'S,  and  icebergs  in  white 
muslin.  You,  my  little  wild  rose,  suit  me  exactly  ;  aiul 
we  will  leave  the  cold  white  lily  to — Professor  D'Arvillo." 

"And  there  she  is  talking  to  Professor  D'Arville,  now  ! 
Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  Paul,  that  you  will  not  like  her  better 
than  you  do  me  !  Come  along,  and  you  shall  have  an  in- 
troduction." 

Paul  SchutTer  had  heard  enough  of  Eve  Ilazolwood  to 
be  prepared  to  see  an  extremely  pretty  girl,  but  hardly  tlie 
beautiful  face  that  turned  to  liini  as  llazcl  went  through 
the  formula  of  introduction.  Ilazel's  eyes  were  u|)on  him, 
so  he  betrayed  neither  surprise  nor  admii'ation,  hut  l)otli 
were  in  his  heart.  ILazers  more  girlisli  good  looks  lost 
lament  ib  y  by  contrast  with  the  bright  brunette  beauty  of 
her  queenly  nousin. 

Louis  Schaffer  came  bustling  up,  noisy  and  excited,  in- 
terrupting his  cousin  Paul's  bland  common[»laces. 


m 


I  111 


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1  ii 


1 06 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


*' I  say,  Eve!  they're  getting  up  the  Lanciers ;  and 
you're  the  only  girl  of  the  lot  that  knows  how  to  dance  them 
decently,  so  you  must  be  my  partner.     Come  along  !  " 

''  But  Louis " 

'^  Come  along  and  don't  bother!"  was  Master  Louis' 
polite  rejoinder.  "You  can  finish  your  Hwo-handed 
crack,'  as  tlie  Scotch  call  it,  with  Professoi  D'Arville  when 
tlie  set's  over.     Come  ! " 

There  was  no  resisting  Louis,  who  was  a  wliirlwind  in 
liis  way,  and  pulled  Eve's  arm  through  his  without  cere- 
mony. 

Professor  D'Arville,  who  never  was  guilty  of  anything  so 
undignified  as  dancing,  lifted  his  hat  in  adieu,  and  turned 
away. 

"  1  say,  Paul,"  cried  Louis,  **  we  want  a  vis-a-vis.  Can't 
you   and   Hazel-— how   d'ye  do.  Hazel  ? — can't   you    two 


come 


V" 


"  Delighted  of  all  things  !  Are  you  fond  of  dancing, 
Miss  Hazel  wood  !  " 

Eve,  by  no  means  pleased  by  Louis'  rude  conduct,  re- 
plied coldly  and  briefly,  and  took  her  jjlace  without  speak- 
ing to  her  partner. 

Very  little  her  silence  troubled  Master  Louis  Schaffer, 
who  went  through  the  quadrille  as  he  did  everything  else, 
with  all  the  energy  of  his  body  and  mind. 

Paul  Schaffer's  languid  grace  of  motion  was  a  striking 
contrast  ;  but  she  at  whom  all  his  poetry  of  motion  was 
aimed  paid  very  little  attention  to  him  or  it,  and  was 
heartily  glad  wheuthe  set  was  over  and  she  was  rid  of 
Louir). 

As  she  stood  leaning  against  a  tree,  a  few  minutes  later, 
listening  to  the  music,  Kate  Schatfer  and  Ifazel  came 
strutting  up,  their  arms  entwined,  schoolgirl  fashion,  round 
each  other's  waists. 

"  Oh,  here  she  is,  like  Patience  on  a  monument,  or 
anything  else  that's  stupid  or  dowdy  is  a  ! "  burst  forth 
Hazel  ;  "and  Kate  and  I  liave  been  hunting  for  you  all 
over.     Wlio  are  you  thinking  of  ? — Professor  D'Arville  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Eve,  composedly  ;  "  of  him,  and  of  some- 
thing else." 

"  How  do  you  like  him,  Eve  ?"  asked  Kate. 

**  I  have  had  no  time  to  like  or  dislike  him  yet." 

**  But  don't  you  think  him  splendid  ?  " 


THE  END  OF  THE  FETE. 


107 


t( 


Perfectly  mag,    and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ?  "  put  in 
Hazel,  ''mag  "'  being  short  for  magnificent. 

^'  I  think  him  handsome — yes." 

''Oil,  do  you?"  sneered  Kate.  "It's  a  wonder  La 
Prineetise  condescends  to  thinlv  even  that.  You  made 
another  acquaintance,  didn't  you  ?  IIow  do  vou  like 
Paul  ?  "  ^ 

"  I  scarcely  saw  him.  Louis  carried  me  off  like  a  tor- 
nado tliat  he  is.  ]>ut  I  was  just  thinking,  as  you  two  came 
up,  what  I  always  tliink  when  I  make  a  new  acquaintance, 
whether  or  not  they  will  have  any  influence  over  my  fut- 
ure life." 

"  Quien  sale  ?  "  laughed  Kate.  '*  What  an  old  philoso- 
pher it  is." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Hazel,  with  a  small  sneer,  ''  she  thinks 
they  will  both  fall  in  love  with  her  or  have  done  so,  at 
first  sight !  " 

*'  Bah  !  Can  you  never  talk  of  anything  but  falling  in. 
love  ?  Come  !  I  have  done  thinking,  and  am  quite  at 
your  service,  Mesdemoiselles." 

The  three  went  away  together  ;  but  could  they  have 
seen  the  future,  or  had  Hazel  Wood  known  she  had  uttered 
a  propliecy,  they  would  hardly  have  gone  with  such  light 
hearts  to  join  in  the  pensioiinaires\fele. 

Be  happy  to-day,  Eve,  rejoice  while  you  may,  for  your 
happy  girlhood  is  flying  from  you  even  at  this  Iiour  I 


CHAPTER  Xm.    , 


THE  END  OF  THE  FETE. 

Professor  Claude  IVAkville  stood  leanin^^  against  the 
trunk  of  a  giant  pine,  whose  long  arms  cast  giant  shadows 
on  the  sunny  sward,  watching  with  dreamy,  half-closed 
ej^es  the  picture  before  him.  He  looked  like  an  artist,  this 
dark-eyed,  thoughtful-browed,  classical-featured  young 
Canadian,  and  he  looked  what  lie  was — an  artist  heart  .;iid 
soul.  It  was  a  study  for  an  artist,  too — the  scene  on  which 
he  gazed— and  in  after  years  that  very  scene,  immortalized 
on  canvas,  and  exhibited  at  the  Academy  of  Art,  in  Lon- 


1 

i 
I 

i  .1 


f  1 1  ji 


1  ;l 


,: 


j:; 


»IH  I* 


fi 


'  ail 


1' 


io8 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


don,  was  one  of  the  first  of  his  paintings  to  win  him  fams. 
Tlie  cloudless  summer  sky  over  his  head,  fleeced  with 
billows  of  downy  white,  and  away  in  the  West,  where  the 
sun  was  sinking,  an  oriflamme  of  purple,  gold  and  crimson, 
the  whole  western  horizon  radiant  with  rosy  light.  The 
pines,  tlie  tamaracs,  and  maples  reared  their  tall  heads 
against  it ;  its  vivid  glory  of  coloring  glittering  on  their 
green  loaves,  as  their  branches  rustled  softly  in  the  light 
breeze,  .'ind  cast  long  cool  shadows  on  the  grass.  The 
twittering  of  the  not  very  sweet-voiced  but  gaudy-colored 
Canadian  birds,  the  plashing  of  a  fountain  near,  the  crisp 
chirping  of  the  grasslioppers  at  his  feet,  made  an  under- 
current of  melody  of  their  own,  audible  even  above  the 
crashing  of  the  brass-band,  and  tlie  shouting  and  vocifor- 
oub  talking  and  laugliing  of  tlie  emancipated  schoolgirls. 
The  pine-tree  beside  which  he  stood  was  an  eminence  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  whole  grounds,  with  its  glens  and 
walks,  and  summer-houses,  and  cascades,  and  jxirterres, 
and  broad  lawns,  and  sloi)ing  glades.  Up  and  down  thcso 
shaded  walks  the  white  muslin  skirts  and  blue  ribbons  of 
the  p(.'iisio)inaires  fluttered  beside  the  black  dress-coats  of 
Louis  SclialTer's  fellow-students  from  one  of  the  Montreal 
colleges.  Kate  Schalfer  lijid  said  there  would  be  half  a 
dozen  gentlemen  at  tlie/"^/6';  had  she  said  two  dozen,  she 
would  have  been  nearer  the  mark  ;  but,  not  being  a 
prophetess,  how  was  she  to  tell  her  irrepressible  brother  in- 
tended inviting  half  his  classmates  ? 

On  the  lawn,  some  were  dancing  ;  among  the  trees,  some 
were  swinging  ,  groups  were  seated  together  on  the  grass 
having  sociable  chats  ;  white  muslin  and  black  coats  turn- 
ing and  twisting  everywhere  ;  and  the  band  under  the 
tamaracs  still  playing  ^'  Vivo  la  Canadicnne  !  " 

Professor  D'Arville  saw  all  this,  and  something  else  too. 
Three  of  those  \/hito-muslin  ans^els  were  comino;  toward 
him.  One,  a  plump  little  damsel,  with  cheeks  like  scarlet 
rose-berries,  brown  eyes,  brown  braids,  and  azure  ribbons  ; 
one,  a  gipsy-faced,  dashing,  young  brunette  a  daughter  of 
the  land,  and  queen  of  i\\Q  fete  ;  and  the  third,  who  walked 
in  the  center,  swinging  her  straw  hat  by  its  rosy  ribbons, 
lier  black  curls  entwiued  with  crimson  geranium-blossoms 
and  deep-green  leaves. 

Ah,  Professor  D'Arville  !  artist  and  beauty-worshiper,  is 
there   anything   in   all  you  see  before  you  as  fair  as  shs  ? 


THE  END  OF  THE  FETE. 


109 


No  Canadian,  though  her  eyes  are  like  bhick  stars,  and 
those  ringlets  of  jetty  darkness,  that  delicate  complexion 
and  bright  bloom  of  color  belong  to  another  land.  Look 
as  long  as  you  please  on  the  beauty  of  sky  and  earth,  or 
tree  and  flowers,  it  is  not  half  so  dangerous  as  one  glance 
at  that  noble  and  lovely  head. 

"  Vive  la  Canadienne  !  et  ses  beaux  yeux, 
Et  ses  beaux  yeux  tons  doux, 
Et  ses  beaux  yeux,'' 


I 


? 


hummed  a  voice  behind  him  ;  and  turning  his  lazy  glance, 
Monsieur  D'Arville  saw  Paul  Schaffer  lounging  up,  look- 
ing at  the  three  girls,  too. 

He  touched  his  hat,  with  a  meaning  smile,  to  the  young 
artist. 

^'  I  need  not  ask  if  monsieur  is  enjoying  himself.  I  see 
that  he  is." 

"Yes,  monsieur  ;  solitude  is  enjoyment  sometimes." 

*'  Pardon,  that  I  have  broken  it ;  but  it  was  likely  to  be 
broken  anyway,  in  a  pleasanter  manner,  perha})s.  See  ! 
The  three  belles  of  the  fete  are  coming  toward  you." 

"  They  are  going  to  the  house,  I  presume  ;  for  they  have 
not  even  seen  me  yet." 

'"  Monsieur^s  modesty  !  He  does  not  need  to  be  told  he 
is  a  favorite  with  the  ladies  ! " 

Professor  D'Arville  fixed  his  eyes  in  a  steady  stare  on 
Mr.  Schaffer's  face,  in  a  way  that  would  have  discomposed 
any  other  man,  but  did  not  in  the  least  disturb  the  bland 
equanimity  of  the  young  gentleman  before  him. 

"^  A  deuced  pretty  girl,  that  ]\[iss  Eve  llazelwood  !  Don't 
you  think  so,  monsieur  ?  One  of  your  pupils,  too,  no  doubt. 
What  an  enviable  fate  is  yours  ?" 

The  brow  of  the  young  professor  contracted  slightly  ; 
but  his  only  answer  was  silence,  cold  and  haughty. 

"  They  call  her  La  Pri/tres^e  in  the  school,"  wont  on  easy 
Mr.  Schaffer,  "and,  by  Jove,  she  looks  it  I  Talk  about 
the  beaux  yeax  of  our  Canadian  girls  !  I  never  saw  such  a 
pair  of  eyes  in  my  life  as  Miidenioiselle  has  !  " 

"  Is  monsieur  in  love  ?  "  Professor  D'Arville  asked,  with 
a  slight  smile  and  French  shrug. 

"I  would  be,  if  I  dared  ;  but  one  might  as  well  fall  in 
love  with  the  moou,  if  all  I  have  heard  of  her  be  true.     I 


\\ 


no 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


M  ir  li 


i;^ 


I  fS^ 


^'  f: 


1  '      i 

ii 

}             ! 

'i' 

1.  I 

If!  r  „ 

1'  i     1 

I 

1:  i 

I 


,1 


"^  i:; 


'i 


iV' 


like  flesh  and  blood,  not  statues.  One  live  woman  is  worth 
a  thousand  marble  ones." 

Professor  D'Arville  made  a  gesture  toward  Hazel,  who 
was  laughing  at  something  until  her  cheeks  were  crim- 
son. 

''  If  monsieur  Hkes  flesh  and  blood,  he  has  it  there.  The 
future  Madame  ScliafTer — is  it  not  ?" 

'^  Will  you  have  a  cigar,  monsieur  ?  "  was  Paul  Schaffer's 
answer.     "  Xo  ?     Then,  with  your  permission,  I  will." 

"Why,  here's  Paul  I"  called  out  Kate,  catching  sight 
of  the  two  gentlemen.     ''I  say,  Paul,  Louis  told  me  to  tell 

you " 

What  Louis  had  told  her  to  tell,  Mr.  Paul  Scliaifer  was 
not  destined  to  hear;  for,  just  then,  there  was  a  tremen- 
dous shout,  and  Louis  himself  came  bustling  through  the 
trees,  his  hair  flying,  his  face  flushed — altogether,  in  a  state 
of  frenzied  excitement. 

"  This  way — this  way,  all  of  you  !  Here's  a  lot  more  of 
the  crowd,  and  we'll  all  have  our  fortunes  told   together." 

"^  Mon  Dieu  !  has  that  madhead  gone  crazy  ?  "  was  Kate's 
cry,  while  the  rest  stared. 

''  Gone  crazy  ?  Catch  me  at  it  !  Here,  you  old  Meg 
Merrilies,  or  whatever  they  call  you,  come  this  way  !  Here's 
another  batch  that  want  you  to  spae  their  fortunes." 

Half  a  dozen  girls  and  as  many  young  men,  with  a  vast 
deal  of  noise  and  tumult,  and  in  their  midst  an  outlandish- 
looking  flgure.  It  was  an  old  woman,  bent,  and  leaning  on 
a  stick  ;  her  brown,  shriveled  face  and  small,  bright  eyes 
peering  from  beneath  a  huge  bonnet  ;  a  dingy  blue  cloak 
wrapped  about  her,  and  beneath  it  a  scant  red  dress  hardly 
reaching  to  her  ankle.  A  more  uncouth  or  witch-like 
figure  no  one  there  had  ever  seen  ;  and  Louis,  catching  her 
by  the  arm,  drew  her  forward,  and  presented  her  with  a 
flourishing  bow. 

"  One  of  Macbeth's  Avitches,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  come 
from  Hades  by  the  last  express-train,  to  tell  your  fortunes  ! 
She  has  told  all  of  ours,  and  made  fifteen  shillings  by  the 
perform.ance  ;  and  noAV.  if  you  have  any  spare  change  about 
you,  siie  is  willing  to  lift  the  veil  of  the  future  for  you. 
Eve,  liold  out  your  hand,  and  let  us  hear  what  the  future 
has  in  store  for  you  beside  a  coffin  ! " 

''No!"  said  Eve,  shrinking  back.  ''Let  Kate  and 
Hazel  try,  if  they  wish;  I  had  rather  not," 


THE  END  OF  THE  FETE. 


Ill 


ler 
a 

kne 

s! 
[he 
mt 

)U. 

ire 
ind 


The  old  woman,  whose  eyes  had  been  darting  from  one 
face  to  another,  turned  them,  at  the  sound  of  lier  voice,  on 
Eve,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  broke  out  into  a 
shrill  and  irrepressible  cry.  It  was  not  a  cry  of  astonish- 
ment ;  it  was  more  like  triumph,  repressed  almost  instantly  ; 
but  her  eyes  cleamed  with  a  strange  lire,  and  the  dirty, 
skinny  hand  she  lield  out  trembled  with  eagerness. 

^'  Yes,  yes,  ye.-^,  my  pretty  lady  I  "  she  exclaimed,  shrilly  ; 
'*  let  me  tell  your  fortune  !  Don^t  be  afraid,  my  dearie  ; 
the  future  can  have  nothing  but  good  in  it  for  one  so  beau- 
tiful as  you." 

Her  first  cry  had  been  repressed  so  quickly  that  it  had 
passed  almost  unnoticed,  save  by  one,  who  bent  his  brows 
and  watched  the  beldame  keenly. 

Eve  shrunk  further  away. 

"No  ;  don't  trouble  yourself  about  my  future.  I  daro 
say,  1  will  know  it  soon  enough." 

^'  Oh,  botheration  ! ''  broke  out  Louis  ;  '"  don't  be  such 
a  guy,  Eve  !  Let  the  old  girl  tell  your  fortune.  She  does 
it  strong,  I  tell  you  I '' 

*'  Xo,"  said  Eve,  resolutely  turning  away.  "  I  shall  not 
tempt  the  future,  even  in  jest.  Besides  " — half  laughing — 
*'  I  have  no  money,  and  the  onicle  is  a  golden  glutton,  and 
will  not  speak  unless  bribed." 

A  storm  of  wordy  abuse  fell  unheeded  on  Eve's  ear  as 
she  turned  away  ;  and,  lifting  her  eyes,  she  caught  Pro- 
fessor D'Arville's  penetrating  glance  lixed  upon  her. 

''  So  you  have  no  faith  in  destiny  ?" 

"  1  do  not  believe  in  fortune-telling,  if  that  is  what  you 
mean ;  and  I  believe  it  is  wrong  to  encourage  any  one  to 
make  a  living  by  any  such  means." 

The  professor  smiled,  and  the  smile  lit  up  his  dark,  Creole 
face  with  a  rare  beauty. 

*' Wisdom  from  the  lips  of  sixteen!  You  see  I  know 
your  age,  mademoiselle.  1  knew  beforehand  you  had  con- 
siderable moral  courage,  but  1  did  not  know  it  was  quite 
so  strong." 

*'  Monsieur  pays  me  a  compliment,"  Eve  said,  licr  heart 
fluttering  a  little.  '^  I  assure  you,  I  can  be  obstinate 
enough  when  I  please  !     Are  you  going  up  to  the  iiouse  :  " 

''If  mademoiselle  will  permit   me    to  accompany    hor." 

Eve  bowed,  and  Professor  D'Arvillo  offered  his  arm.  A 
dark  and  sinister  glance  followed  them  ;  and  Louis  Schaf- 


!'.! 


mm 


112 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


!^ 


U\ 


I  i 


fer  touched  Hazel  on  the  arm,  with  a  slight  and  contemp- 
tuous laugh. 

*^See,  llazel !  One  would  think  they  had  known  each 
other  from  tlieir  cradles.     Paul  and  Virginia,  eh  ?  " 

'*  Tliev  make  a  very  nice  couple,  I  think.  How  do  you 
like  Eve  ?" 

Mr.   Schaffor  raised  his  eyebrows. 

*'  Oh,  so-so.  A  pretty  girl  with  black  eyes,  but  notliing 
to  set  the  St.  Lawrence  on  fire.  She  is  a  sort  of  second 
Minerva,  is  she  not  ?  In  making  her,  they  forgot  to  add 
that  trifling  item,  a  heart." 

''  Nonsense,  Paul  !  "  But  Hazel's  face  was  radiant 
malgre  cela.  "1  won't  have  you  talk  so  of  my  handsome 
cousin  Eve  !  " 

*'  My  dear,  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  asked  my  opinion, 
and  you  have  it." 

''  But  everv  one  admires  her." 

*'  And  so  do  I,  immensely — as  I  admire  sculptured  Di- 
anas and  Niobes.  But  as  to  falling  in  love  with  anything 
so  celestially  cold — bah  !  " 

'^  Oil,  Paul  !" — and  Hazel's  hands  clasped  his  arm,  and 
Hazel's  beaming  face  was  uplifted  in  ecstasy — *'  I  am  glad  ; 
I  am  so  glad  !  Do  you  know  I  Avas  awfully  afraid  you  would 
never  think  of  me  after  you  saw  Eve  ? " 

''  You're  a  little  simpleton.  Hazel.  Do  you  know  that  ? 
And,  to  punish  you,  I  have  a  good  mind  not  to  tell  you 
something  that  I  think  vould  please  you." 

"What  is  it,  Paul?'' 

'*  Come  up  to  the  house  ;  I  don't  want  all  these  gaping 
girls  to  hear.  It  is  this  :  the  regiment  are  ordered  off 
somewhere,  and,  before  they  go,  give  a  grand  ball.  Will 
you  come 


9  " 


}} 


'^Oh,  Paul,  I  can't  ! 

"  Oil,  Hazel,  you  can.  Dress  in  your  room,  descend  by 
the  rope-ladder,  I  will  drive  you  to  the  depot,  the  cars 
will  take  us  to  Montreal  in  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  vou 
can  return  by  tlic  four  o'clock  express  in  the  morning. 
You  will  have  a  night's  pleasure,  and  Madame  Moreau 
nor  any  of  her  dragons  be  the  wiser 

"  But,  Paul " 


j^ 


a 


<i 


Well,  m^ amour  ?" 

I  wouldn't — "  laughing   and   blushing  deeply  ;  "  it 


wouldn't  be  proper  I 


THE  END  OF  THE  FETE. 


113 


"  Tat,  tilt,  tut,  proper  I  Are  you  not  my  little  wife, 
or  as  good  ?  Get  a  conipanioii  if  you  like  ;  ask  La  Priu- 
cesse  to  come  with  you  I " 

''  Eve  ?"  Hazel  cried,  a^rliast ;  '^  why,  Paul,  Eve  would 
as  soou  take  a  pistol  and  blow  her  own  brains  out  as  do 
anything  of  the  kind  !  Eve,  indeed  !  it's  little  you  know 
of  her  to  suggest  such  a  thing  ! " 

"  Try,  anyway.  If  she  refuses,  Kate  Schaffer  won't,  and 
she  can  go  Avitli  Louis.     M((l  pestc  !     How  I  hate  prudes  I  '* 

After  that.  Hazel  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  blow- 
ing her  brains  out  as  refusing,  and  they  had  it  all  settled 
before  the^  reached  the  house.  Some  one  was  singing  as 
they  entered  the  long  drawing-room,  half  filled  with  eager 
listeners  ;  and  among  these  listeners  a  white  figure,  with 
black  curls  and  pink  ribbons,  in  the  shadow  of  the  window- 
curtains,  drinking  in  every  word — every  note.  The  singer 
was  Professor  Claude  D'Arville,  who  could  sing  and  play 
as  well  as  he  could  paint,  and  the  song  was  '-  Ellen  Adair.'' 
Paul  Schalfer  and  Hazel  Wood  stood  in  the  doorway,  and 
listened  with  the  rest  : 


V. 


it 


"  Ellen  Adah',  she  loved  me  well, 

Against  her  fatiier  and  mother's  will, 
To-daj"  I  sat  for  an  hour  and  wept, 
By  Ellen's  grave  on  the  windy  hill. 

"  Shy  she  was,  and  I  thought  her  cold — 

Tlioiight  her  proud,  and  fled  o'er  the  sea ; 
Filled  was  I  with  folly  and  spite, 

When  Ellen  Adair  was  dying  for  me."' 

"  There  is  the  Ellen  Adair  he  is  thinking  of,"  whispered 
Paul ;  '•  look  at  the  window  ;  but  she  never  will  die  for 
him  or  any  one  else." 

'^Ah!  I  don't  know,"  said  Hazel,  with  a  sentimental 
look  \  "  ^  the  trail  of  tlie  serpent  is  over  all,'  Moore  says, 
and  she  is  only  mortal,  like  the  rest  of  us." 

''  Marble,  you  should  say  !  There,  he  is  at  the  second 
verse,  and  it  is  not  polite  to  talk,  I  suppose." 

The  song  was  finished  amid  a  buzz  of  applause,  in  which 
the  white  figure  at  the  window  did  not  join.  'J'hey  saw 
her  shrink  away  into  the  shadow  of  the  curtains,  and 
glide  through  the  open  window  out  on  the  lawn.  The 
sinister  eyes  that  never  ceased  watching  her  saw  the  act. 


u 


If 


,;     i; 


1  1^ 


i   • 


ll 


n 


114 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


and   saw   Professor   D'Arville    saunter  away   in   another 
direction. 

I'lie  sunny  afternoon  was  ending  in  a  cloudless,  moon- 
light night,  as  Eve  llazelwood,  avoiding  the  numerous 
groups  of  gay  girls  and  young  men,  strolled  Ijy  herself  down 
a  slnidy  pine  avenue,  toward  the  gate,  and  leaning  against 
it,  watched  the  round,  red  moon  rise,  with  her  beauty  in 
lier  eyes.  Far  off,  one  solemn  star  slione,  the  precursor 
of  the  rising  host.  The  peaceful  village  lay  beneath 
lier,  hushed  in  the  holy  silence  of  eventide  ;  tiie  convent-bell 
was  ringing  for  vespers,  and  while  she  stood  listening  to  its 
slow,  sweet  music,  two  of  the  nuns  passed  her  on  their  way 
there.  One  was  a  sober-looking,  middle-aged  woman,  the 
other,  a  young  girl,  not  much  older  then  Eve  herself,  and 
with  a  face  almost  as  beautiful  and  fair,  more  gentle  and 
sweet.  Eve  watched  them  out  of  sight,  wondering  if 
the  young  nun  was  happy,  and  very,  very  doubtful  of 
it.  She  need  not  have  been.  Sister  Agnes  was  perfectly 
happy  ;  but  the  world  looked  a  very  bright  and  beautiful 
place  to  the  inexperienced  schoolgirl,  and,  somehow,  this 
afternoon  it  had  acquired  a  new  charm.  Had  the  sun  ever 
slione  so  brightly  l)efore  ?  Had  she  ever  spent  such  a 
pleasant  afternoon  ?  And  was  there  ever  so  charming  a 
song  as  '^  Ellen  Adair  ?"  Ah  !  there  lay  the  key-note  of 
all,  and  half  unconsciously  she  began  to  sing  : 

*'  Love  may  come  and  love  may  go, 

And  fly  like  a  bird  from  tree  to  tree ; 
But  I  will  love  no  more,  no  more, 

Till  Ellen  Adair  conies  back  to  me." 

^*  You  liked  my  song,  then  ?"  said  a  quiet  voice  behind 
her,  and  Eve  fairly  boundeil.  She  had  heard  no  stc})  on 
the  velvety  sward,  but  Professor  D'Arville  stood  at  her 
elbow. 

'^"  Pardon,  mademoiselle,  I  did  not  mean  to  startle  you. 
Being  tired  of  tlio  heat  and  noise  of  the  house,  I  strolled 
down  here  to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  evening  alone.  I 
see  mademoiselle  is  an  admirer  of  the  beauties  of  nature, 
too.       If  I  intrude,  I  will  depart." 

''  Oh,  no,"  said  Eve,  laying  her  hand  on  her  breast  to 
still  her  startled  heart-beating  ;  ''  this  place  is  free  to  all." 

Uo  leaned  against  the  gate  and  looked  at  her. 


ir^  f'     ,i 


THE  END  OF  THE  FETE. 


115 


•11 


I 


Ito 


''  So  you  like  '  Ellen  Adair  '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur;  I  like  everything  Tennyson  writes." 

'^  Yet  it  is  rubbish  after  all — sentimental  trash  I  Don't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

"No,  monsieur!''  rather  iiuliufiiantly  ;  '•  I  should  be 
sorry  to  think  so  !  Tennyson  could  not  write  rubbish  if 
he  tried." 

"  Oh,  I  see  !  You  are  like  all  the  other  romantic  young 
ladies  in  tlie  world  !  Have  you  read,  Mariana  in  the 
Moated  Grange'  ?" 

**  A  hundred  times,  monsieur  !  I  know  it  every  word 
off." 

AVhat  lucky  fellows  these  poets  are  !  Aii,  who  have  we 
here  ?  A  brigand  or  the  hero  of  a  three-volume  novel. 
Perhaps  Tennyson  himself." 

Eve's  eyes  were  asking  the  same  question,  though  her 
lips  were  silent.  Up  the  moonlit  road  a  tall  figure  was 
striding — the  iigure  of  a  num  in  a  long,  j)icturesque  and 
most  foreign-looking  cloak,  a  broad-brimmed  straw  hat 
pulled  over  his  face,  completely  concealing  it,  aiul  a  cigar 
between  his  lips. 

"  What  a  strange-looking  figure  !  "  said  Eve,  wonder- 
ingly.  *'  Who  can  he  be,  and  what  can  have  brought  him 
to  St.  Croix  ?  " 

""Questions  1  cannot  take  it  upon  myself  to  answer. 
Why,  he  is  actually  coming  here  I " 

The  foreign-looking  stranger  had  caught  sight  of  the 
two  figures  standing  within  the  gate,  and  flinging  his 
cigar  away,  walked  up  to  them.  Taking  off  his  hat  to 
Eve,  he  made  a  courtly  bow  ;  and  in  the  moonlight,  clear 
as  day,  she  saw  a  bronzed  and  mustached  face,  swarthy  as 
that  of  a  Paynim,  but  eminently  handsome,  shaded  ])y 
profuse  coal-black  locks,  and  lit  up  by  luminous  dark  eyes. 
Dark,  handsome,  and  distinguished,  he  did  iiuleed  look 
like  the  hero  of  a  novel,  or  a  brigand  in  a  play.  His 
years  might  have  been  forty,  and  there  were  threads  of 
silver  gleaming  amid  his  elf  locks. 

''  Pardon  ! "  he  said  in  French,  though  not  with  a 
French  accent,  "^  for  the  intrusion,  but  1  am  a  stranger 
here.  Can  you  tell  me  which  of  those  two  buildings  on 
the  hill  yonder  is  Madame  ^lora^w^s  ji'-nsioiinat  V 

"  The  one  furthest  off,  monsieur,"  replied  Professor 
D'Arville  ;  ''  the  other  is  the  Convent  of  the  Holy  Cross." 


Ii6 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


i     '. 


\' 


i1 


\i 


I   i 


I  fi 


1^1 


111 


liii 

II; 


Ml 


"A  thousiiiid  tliiinks,  monsieur  !     Good  night." 

He  bowed  again  to  Eve,  tlirew  on  liis  sombrero,  and 
walked  leisurely  away,  bumming  the  I'ag-end  of  a  Spanish 
ballad  as  ho  went. 

*'A  S])aniard,''  said  ]\Ionsieur  D'Ai-ville  ;  **he  looks 
like  it.  Some  of  madame's  Cuban  friends,  perhaps;  she 
lived  there  before  she  came  to  St.  Croix.  But  the  night- 
uir  is  chill,  and  your  dress  is  thin,  mademoiselle — had  I 
not  better  lead  you  in  ?  '' 

''Eve  !  ]']ve  I  Eve  Ilazolwood  !  "  a  chorus  of  voices  sud- 
denly called  before  Eve  could  reply,  and  a  whole  troop  of 
demoiselles  rushed  down  upon  them.     ''Eve  I  Eve  I  where 


are  vou 


r>  V 


"  Here  she  is  !  "  shouted  Kate  Schaffer.  "  I  have  found 
her  !     I  thought  I  would." 

And  her  black  Canadian  eyes,  those  laughing,  roguish 
dark  eyes,  whose  praises  her  countrymen  sing,  looked 
wickedly  from  teacher  to  pupil. 

"Well,"  said  Eve,  with  infinite  composure,  "  and  now 
that  I  am  found,  what  do  you  want  with  me  ?" 

"Only  this,  the  best  of  friends  must  part;  and  we  are 
ordered  home,  or  rather  back  to  prison.  You  are  the  only 
missing  lamb  of  the  fold  ;  and  detachments  have  been  sent 
out  in  every  direction  in  search  of  you." 

*'  Oh,  yes  I "  said  Hazel,  joining  in  ;  "  we  thought  some- 
body had  run  away  with — out  you  !  ITurry  now,  or  you'll 
get  a  lecture  as  long  as  to-day  and  to-morrow." 

The  carriages  were  at  the  door,  and  i\\c pcnsionnaircs, 
cloaked  and  hooded,  being  packed  into  them  by  the  de- 
voted young  collegians.  Louis  Schalfer,  his  cousin  Paul, 
and  Monsieur  D'Arville,  stood  near  one  as  Eve  came  out 
the  last,  and  it  was  Paul  Schaffer  who  advanced  with  ex- 
tended hand,  while  Louis  was  cluitting  volubly  with  the 
girls  already  stowed  witliin  the  vehicle,  ami  the  professor 
stood  at  a  little  distance,  looking  quietly  on. 

'"  We  thought  La  Princesse  was  lost  ten  minutes  ago, 
and  were  all  in  a  state  of  distraction.  Louis,  get  out  of 
the  way,  will  you,  and  let  me  assist  Mademciselle  Hazel- 
wood  in." 

"  Off  she  goes  !  "  cried  Louis,  as  Eve,  scarcely  touching 
his  cousin's  hand,  ste})ped  lightly  in  ;  "  the  last,  the 
brightest,  the  best !  Good  night.  Eve,  and  pleasant 
dreams — dream  of  nie  !  " 


A  TEMPEST  IN  A  TEAPOT. 


11/ 


"  Adieu,  madcinoiselle,''  Paul  Scli.'ifTcr  ?aitl,  liftiug  licr 
luuid  to  liis  lips  before  she  was  ;i\v;irc  :  '*  I  .shall  loug  I'c- 
ineni])cr  tliis  evening  !     Adi(!U,  and   (tu  nroir!'' 

Witli  an  iuiperious  gesture,  the  girl  snatched  her  hand 
away,  her  cheeks  ilusliing  scarlet.  Another  gentlennui 
ste})ped  up  to  the  carriage  door,  and  shut  it. 

**  Good  night,  Miss  Ilazelwooil,"  he  said  in  English  ; 
"  Good  niglit,  young  ladles  all." 

^'  B()}i  i<oir!  bo)i  soir,  nionsicHr ! ''  a  chorus  of  voices 
called,  and  then  the  carriage  rattled  away,  and  the  fr/e 
was  ended. 

The  two  young  men,  left  alone  in  the  moonlight,  did 
not  speak.  Bowing  silently,  they  went  their  dilTercnt 
ways.  Professor  D'Arville  into  the  house  to  bid  his  hostess 
farewell,  and  Paul  Schaffer  walked  at  a  brisk  pace  toward 
the  gate.  Out  in  the  road,  he  walked  rapidly  toward  tlio 
village,  and  stopped  at  last  before  a  lonely-looking  little 
hut,  at  the  outskirts  of  8t.  Croix,  lie  paused  a  moment 
to  look  at  it,  and  the  one  full  ray  of  light  streaming  from 
its  curtained  window,  and  then  ra})ped  gently  at  the  door. 

"This  should  be  the  place,"  he  muttered  to  himself; 
''and  if  the  old  witch  knows  anything  about  the  girl,  [ 
shall  find  it  out  before  I  leave,  or  my  name's  not  Paul 
Schaffer." 


>    I 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A   TEMPEST   IX    A   TEAPOT. 

A  RAIXY  afternoon  in  St.  Croix — a  dog^'ed,  determined, 
out-and-out  rainy  day,  with  a  sky  of  lead  above,  and  a 
soaking,  steaming,  sodden  earth  below.  A  dreary  after- 
noon in  St.  Croix,  dull  at  the  best  in  the  brightest  sun- 
shine, but  doubly  dull  in  wet  weather,  when  you  might 
walk  in  mud  from  one  extremity  of  the  village  to  the  other 
without  meeting  a  living  thing,  except,  ])erhaps,  some 
draggled,  skulking  dog,  the  outcast  and  Pariah  of  his 
tribe.  A  dismal  afternoon  in  the  prusifnumf  des  dcuxii- 
selles  ;  its  playground  deserted,  its  day-scholars  gone  home 
in  the  great  covered  carryall,  kept  by  madame  for  such 
emergencies,  and  darkness  and  dullness  brooding  over  its 
empty  carves  and  long  corridors.  It  was  the  hour  of  recess, 
too  ;  but   the  gloomy  evening  seemed  to  have  imparted 


w^^ 


Ii8 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


ii  # 

it 


1-^ 
It ' ', 

ll'     :■? 
I 


!■ 


I'l"!' 


some  of  its  gloom  to  Madame  Morean's  pupils  ;  for  instead 
of  making  day  liideoiis  with  their  iijjroar,  according  to 
custom,  they  had  slouched  off  to  their  rooms  and  gone  to 
sleep,  or  in  hidden  corners  were  poring  over  novels,  or, 
gathered  in  groups,  were  gapingly  discussing  tlie  great 
Schaft'er/f'/^',  not  yet  two  days  old.  The  babies  of  the 
Fourtli  Division,  too  young  in  the  blessedness  of  seven 
years  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  dreadful  word  ennui, 
were  romping  and  screaming  in  their  own  dominions,  and 
their  noise,  and  that  of  two  or  three  pianos  in  the  music- 
room,  were  the  only  sounds  that  broke  tlie  solitude  of  the 
2)e}]!<ionn<it. 

In  one  of  the  deserted  carre.^,  perched  up  in  tlio  deep 
window-ledge  at  the  furthest  extremity,  a  jx'nsionnc.ii'e 
sat  looking  out  at  tlie  black  and  dismal  prospect.  8he 
was  wrapped  in  a  large  plaid  shawl,  for  the  wet  day  was 
bleak  and  raw  ;  a  book.  La  Tour  de  ma  CJtamhre,  lay  in 
lier  lap  ;  but  tlie  dark,  dreamy  eyes  were  lixed  on  the 
lowering  sky,  and  the  rain  plashing  against  the  glasses, 
and  the  luxuriant  black  ringlets  were  pushed  impatiently 
beliind  lier  ears,  and  away  from  tlie  beautiful  face.  The 
girl  was  tliinking,  sometliing  schoolgirls  are  not  greatly 
given  to  do,  and  her  meditations  were  broken  suddenly, 
in  a  not  very  romantic  manner.  A  pair  of  liigh-hoeled 
boots  came  clattering  down  the  staircase  near  her,  and  a 
shrill  falsetto  voice,  singing  at  the  top  of  a  pair  of  power- 
ful lun<>s  : 

"  'Oh,  poor  Robinson  Criisoe  ! 
How  could  you  go  for  to  do  so ! 

Hey  diddle,  diddle,  the  cat  and  the  fiddle, 
Oil.  poor  Robinson  Crusoe  ! 
He  Jiad  a  man  Friday, 
To  keep  his  house  tidy.' 

Hallo  !  Is  this  whce  you  are,  perched  u])  like  some  dis- 
mal old  owl,  or  some  vvhat's-its-name,  a  pillow-case  in  the 
Avilderness  ?  " 

This  last  did  not  belong  to  the  canticle  slie  was  chanting, 
but  was  addressed  by  the  singer  to  the  pensive  young  lady 
in  the  window,  who  turned  round  leisurely  at  the  inter- 
ruption. 

*^  Is  it  you.  Hazel  ?     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

*•  '  He  built  him  a  boat, 
Of  the  skin  of  a  gont. 
And  he  christened  it  Robinson  Crusoe,"' 


A  TEMPEST  IN  A  TEAPOT. 


119 


^rvstcries   of 

What's  tliis  ? 

I  might  liave 

You 


snng  Ilazol  Wood,  ski])i)ingup  adroitly  beside  Eve  ;  '^  you 
ought  to  have  been  Mrs.  Rohiuson  Crusoe.  You  would 
have  made  a  sweet  pair  of  pokes,  you  would.  WHiat  do  T 
Avaut  ?  The  pleasure  of  your  charming  society,  ruy  love. 
It's  a  little  better  than  yawuiug  myself  to  death  uji-stairs.'' 

''  I  thought  you  were  asleep." 

''  Xever  was  wider  awake  in  my  life  !     I  was  reading  !  " 

*'  You  reading  I     I  like  that  I" 

'"Ton  my  word  !  It  was  a  novel,  though,  and  one  of 
Eugene  Sue's  at  tliat !" 

''Oh,  Hazel  I" 

"  There  !  don't  faint  !  It  wasn't  the 
Paris  ' — I  never  could  wade  through  that. 
Oh,  'A  Journey   Round  my  Chamber!'     _       .-, - 

known    it   was  something  stupid   and  luguljrious  !      

ought  to  go  and  be  a  nun  at  once  :  you  are  half  one  now." 

"  }diss  Wood,  if  you  only  came  here  to  lecture  me,  I  beg 
you  will  take  your  departure  again  as  ()ui(d<ly  as  i)ossible. 
I  prefer  my  own  thoughts  to  your  aliusc.'' 

"  Well,  then,  don't  be  cross,  and  1  won't  scold.  I  have 
come  to  ask  a  favor  of  you." 

"Yes,  I  miglit  have  known  that  I  Do  your  stockings 
want  darning,  or  your  handkerchiefs  hemming,  or  lias 
your  i)ocket-money  run  short,  or  wiuit  is  the  trouble 
now  : 

"  iNothing  of  that  kind.  It's  the  greatest  favor  you  have 
ever  rendered  me  in  your  life." 

Eve  opened  her  eyes. 

"  The  greatest !  What  in  the  world  can  it  be,  then  ? 
Let  us  hear  it." 

"•  Promise  me  first  that  you  will  grant  it." 

''  Promise  before  I  know  what  it  is  !  ]S\),  I  thank  vou, 
Miss  Wood  ! " 

"  But  oh,  Eve  !  I  do  want  it  so  badly  !  You  won't  re- 
fuse— there's  a  darling,  will  you  ?"  cried  Hazel,  pulling 
her  arms  round  Eve's  neck  and  bribiiig  her  with  kisses. 

"Hands  off  !"  Eve  laughed,  disengaging  herself.  "I 
am  above  bril)es.     Out  with  tliis  womUrful  favor  of  yours." 

"  Eve,  if  you  don't  grant  it  [  will  never  speak  to  you." 

'•'  W^on't  vou  ?  I  wonder  which  of  us  that  would  punish 
most  ?  But  take  heart,  v.oz  ;  if  it  is  nothing  very  terrible, 
I  dare  say  I  will  grant  it." 


■,'!  .1 

m 


But  it  is  terrible  ;  at  least  you  will  think  it  so." 


120 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


\        5; 


!^' 


'   ■  I  I: 


i'i 


m  . 


¥    . 


ii;, ' 

11 : 


"  All  !  "  said  Eve,  growing  grave.     ''  It  is  some  of  Mon- 
sieur Paul  Schaffer's  handiwork,  then,  I  dare  say." 

Hazel  shifted   uneasily  beneath  the  truthful  and  pene- 
trating dark  eyes. 

"  Yes,  it  is  !     Eve,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  be  so  prejudiced 
against  Paul.     What  right  have  you  to  be  ?  " 

Eve  sat  silent,  her  lips  compressed,  her  hands  folded, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  sullen  rain. 

Hazel  fidgeted  and  looked  uneasily  at  her  cousin. 

"  Eve." 

'MVell?" 

'^  He  wants  nie  to- 
the  murder's  out  I  " 

"  To  jro  to  a  ball  ? 


-to  go  to  a  ball  with  him.     There  ! 


When  and  where  ?  " 
It  is  a  military  ball,  in  Montreal,  and  the  time  is  to- 
morrow night  ?  " 

"And  do  you  imagine  Madame  Moreau  will  consent  to 
any  such  thing  ?  " 

"  I  don't  intend  to  ask  her.  I  want  to  go  without  her 
knowledge.     I  can  do  it  easily." 

"Indeed  !     IIow?" 

"  Can't  I  dress  in  our  room  ? — my  white  muslin  will 
do  well  enough — and  get  out  by  tiie  rope-ladder  ?  Paul 
will  be  waiting  with  a  carriage.  The  cars  will  take  us  to 
the  city,  and  fetch  us  back  before  five  next  morning." 

Eve  faced  suddenly  round,  with  kindling  eyes. 

"  Hazel,  did  Paul  8chaffer  ask  you  to  do  this  ?  " 

"Have  I  not  just  told  you  so?"  uneasily  and  im- 
patiently. 

"  And  you  consented  ?  " 

"  Yes  I"  said  Hazel,  defiantly.     "  And  what  of  it  ?" 

"  Only  that  Paul  Schaffer  is  a  villain,  and  you — oh, 
Hazel  !  Hnzel  I — have  no  respect  for  yourself  at  all." 

Hazel  bounced  indignantly  down  on  the  floor. 

"  Eve  Hazelwood,  I'd  thank  you  to  mind  what  you  are 
saying.  Yes  ;  he  did  ask  me,  and,  what's  more,  he  has 
sent  you  an  invitation  to  accompany  me.     Now,  there  !  " 

Eve  rose  up,  her  eyes  like  bhick  stars,  her  cheeks  rosy 
flame. 

"  And  Paul  SchalTer  dared  to  send  me  such  an  insult 
as  that  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  fiddlesticks  !  Insult  your  grai  dmother  !  You're 
somebody  great,  ain't  you,  that  you're  not  to  be  insulted  ?  " 


■Jri' 


A  TEMPEST  IN  A  TEAPOT. 


i2r 


Eve  stood  silent,  looking  at  her,  more  in  sorrow  than  in 
anger  ;  and  Hazel  still  kept  shifting  and  fidgeting  under 
tliose  earnest  eyes. 

*'Now,  look  here,  cousin  Eve,  what  I  want  to  know  is 
this  :  will  you  keep  my  secret  ?  I  can't  get  away  without 
your  knowing,  or  1  wouldn't  ask  you.  Kate  Schaffer  is 
going,  too  ;  so  where  will  be  the  impropriety  ?  It  is  only 
a  schoolgirl  frolic;,  that  no  one  would  object  to  but  an  old 
granny  like  yourself  'i  " 

''  Kate  SchaU'er  may  go  if  she  pleases  ;  but  you  shall 
not." 

**  Shall  not  ?  "  said  Hazel,  her  eyes  beginning  to  flash  ; 
"  take  care.  Eve  Ilazelwood  !  " 

'*  Shall  not  !"  repeated  Eve,  resolutely  ;  *'not  if  I  have 
to  sit  up  Jill  night  to  prevent  you.  Sooner  than  let  you 
go,  I  will  go  to  madame,  and  tell  her  all." 

"  Telltale  I ''  hissed  Hazel,  red  with  passion,  and  Eve's 
face  turned  crimson  at  the  word. 

*'  What  do  I  care  ?  You  shall  not  nuike  me  angry. 
Hazel,  and  you  shall  not  disgrace  yourself.  No,  you  shall 
not  go,  and  some  day  you  will  thank  me  for  it." 

Hazel  essayed  to  speak,  but  angjr  and  disappointment 
were  too  much  for  her,  and  she  burst  into  a  hysterical 
passion  of  sobs.  Eve's  own  eyes  filled,  and  she  put  her 
arms  round  her  cousin,  but  that  indignant  young  lady 
shook  her  violently  off. 

''  Let  me  alone,  will  you  ?  you  hateful,  obstinate,  selfish 
thing  !  I  hate  you,  Eve  Ilazelwood,  and  I'll  go  in  spite 
of  you  !     There  !  " 

The  class-bell  rung  loudly,  but  Hazel,  soltbing  and 
scolding,  paid  no  attention  to  it.  Eve  lingered,  looking 
at  her. 

''  Hazel,  dear,  don't  be  angry.  It  is  because  I  love  you 
I  can't  consent." 

''  You  don't  love  mo  !  You  love  nobody  but  yourself  ! 
Y^ou're  just  what  Paul  savs  :  a  cold-liearted,  unfeeling 
thiii.o- :  but  I'll  go,  if  I  die  for  it  !     Mind  tiuit  I  " 

'•  You  had  better  stop  crying,  and  come  down-stturs. 
The  supper-bell  has  rung." 

^'  Let  it  ring  !  "  said  Hazel,  desperately  ;  "  I  don't  want 
any  supper.     Go  ami  eat  your  own,  it's  all  you  care  for." 

Now,  really,  this  was  a  most  unjust  reproach  ;  for,  to 
do  Eve  justice,  her  palate  was  the  least  of  her  troubles — 


w^^ 


H 


I 

I  i   : 

I 

I 


n  ' 


t  f  1   ■> ! 
Pi   I 


<    i  Jill 


122 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


which  was  very  fur  from  being  Miss  Wood's  case.  Eve 
smiled  involuntarily  as  she  heard  it,  and  leaving  the  carve 
without  another  word,  descended  to  the  .^nlle  a  maiujcr. 

''Hazel  will  think  })otter  of  it,"  she  mused;  "1  don't 
believe  slie  will  go  without  her  tea." 

Eve  was  right.  As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  Hazel  dried 
lier  eyes,  and  took  her  lacerated  heart  down-stnirs,  to  seci^ 
consolation  in  the  pale,  lukewarm  fluid,  known  in  board- 
ing-schools as  tea,  and  its  accompanying  slices  of  trans- 
parent bread  and  butter.  Fifteen  minutes  was  the  time 
allotted  for  devouring  these  dainties.  At  the  end  of  that 
poriod,  a  signal  was  given  to  rise  ;  grace  was  said  by  the 
})r('siding  teacher,  and  the  ceremony  was  over.  Silence 
being  the  austere  law  at  meal-time,  ten  minutes  Avere  al- 
lowed the  ,<j:irls  Jifterward  to  relieve  their  feeling's  before 
going  iip-stairs,  and  J3abel  broke  loose  the  instant  grace 
was  ended.  Just  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  uproar  and  con- 
fusion of  tongues,  the  folding  doors  of  the  sallc  a  manger 
split  open,  and  in  sailed  Madame  Moreau,  followed  by  a 
gentleman.  At  sight  of  their  commander-in-chief,  the 
tumult  ceased,  and  all  eyes  turned  on  her  companion,  a 
tall,  dark,  foreign  looking  gentleman,  bearded  and  mus- 
tached  like  a  prrd,  and  most  exceedingly  handsome. 

''  Here  are  my  little  family,  monsieur,"  laughed  ma- 
dame,  introducing  him  to  the  prusioiuiaircs,  who  returned 
liis  bow  by  a  siniultajieous  school-gii'l  obeisance.  ''  You 
perceive  tliey  have  just  concluded  their  frugal  rei)ast." 
■  "  Frugal,"  murmured  Kate  Schaffer,  looking  mourn- 
fully round  the  sloppy  tea-table.  ""  1  should  think  so. 
AVe  jire  safe  from  dyspepsia  and  the  gout  while  we  are 
under  your  charge,  madame." 

The  gentleman's  dark  eyes,  wandering  from  face  to  face, 
rested  on  that  of  Eve,  standing  near  a  windo\v,  from  which 
slie  had  been  watching  the  rainy  twilight.  He  did  not 
approiich  her,  however,  but  went  up  to  Hazel,  who  stood 
all  alone,  as  sulky  as  a  bear. 

''  One  of  your  family  appears  to  be  in  distress,  madame," 
he  said.  And  Eve  recognized  at  once  the  melodious, 
foreign-accented  voice.  "  The  world  seems  to  have  gone 
wrong  with  this  voui\<i-  lad  v. 


o 


J  I'l 


Hazel   shrugged    pettishly,   and   turned    round    with  a 
sulky  action,  tiiat  sa.id,  as  plaiidy  as  words  : 
"I  wish  you  would  mind  your  own  business." 


\l 


A  TEMPEST  IN  A  TEAPOT. 


123 


"Yon  have  been  crying,  Miss  Wood?"  questioned 
madame,  looking  at  her. 

''  Xo,  1  haven't  ! ''  said  Hazel,  as  crossly  as  she  dared — 
for  1  am  sorry  to  say  Miss  Wood  tliought  no  more  of  small 
fibs  at  times  than  she  did  of  rudeness — ''  there's  nothing 
the  matter  with  me." 

The  stranger  smiled,  passed  on,  and  came  to  where  Eve 
stood. 

''All,"  he  said,  stopping,  '"here  is  a  familiar  face. 
You  and  I  have  met  before,  mademoiselle." 

"  Met  before  !  "  echoed  madame,  while  all  the  teachers 
and  pupils  stared.  '"  Why,  Avhere  can  Monsieur  menJuz 
have  met  Miss  Ha/el  wood  ?" 

"  Madame,  the  other  evening,  walking  along  the  road 
out  there  1  saw  a  fairy,  all  in  white  and  pink,  standing  at 
a  gate  in  the  moonlight,  and  I  v.ent  up,  and  asked  to  be 
directed  to  yon." 

^' It  was  the  niglit  of  the  fete/'  Eve  said,  a  little  em- 
barrassed to  find  all  eyes  fixed  on  her.  *'  1  directed  mon- 
sieur to  the  pension ncf'L'" 

Here  the  study-bell  rang,  and  madame  and  her  com- 
panion bowing  themselves  out,  left  the  young  ladies  to  go 
np-stairs.  llermine,  the  portress,  was  just  opening  the 
front-door  in  answer  to  an  imperative  ring,  as  her  mistress 
crossed  the  vestibule  on  her  way  to  the  parlor.  Tiie 
visitor  was  a  little  sparn,  wiry  man,  who  nodded  to  nni- 
dame  with  easy  indifference,  but  started  back  at  sight  of 
hin*  companion  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost. 

'^  Eh,  what !  "  he  cried,  energetieallv,  "  it  can^t  be  I  it 
c;in't  be  ! " 

And  the  sentence  was  finished  bv  a  blank  stare. 

''  Monsieur  evidently  mi.stakes  me  for  some  one,"  said 
the  gentleman,  with  a  courteous  smile  and  bow. 

"'' Xo,  that  never  was  his  voice,"  said  the  little  man, 
still  staring  ;  "■  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  you  look  so  much 
like  some  one  I  once  knew,  that  at  first  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
(iivln't  think  it  was  he." 

"  Allow  me  to  make  yon  acquainted,  gentlemen,"  inter- 
posed madame,  blandly  ;  *'  ^lonsieur,  this  is  Doctor  Lance, 
one  of  my  professors,  and  the  guardian  of  two  of  my 
))upils.  Professor,  my  friend  from  Cuba,  Senor  Meiidez, 
who  has   kindly  come  to  visit  me  in  my  Canadian  home." 

"  llap})y  to  make  your  acquaintance,  sir,"  grunted  the 


f    :, 


"*T   '»    »■ 


124 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


professor.  ^'  matlamc,  I  want  to  see  my  wards — I  have  a 
piece  of  news  for  them,  that  I  think  will  make  tliem  open 
their  eyes." 

Madame  led  the  way  into  the  parlor,  and  rang  the  bell. 

"  Xo  bad  news,  I  trust  ?"  she  asked. 

*'  That's  as  may  be.  The  fact  is,  I'm  tired  of  them, 
and  I  think  it  high  time  this  other  guardian,  who  is  also 
their  nearest  living  blood-relation,  should  take  charge  of 
them.  So  I  wrote  to  him.  He  was  in  England,  as  you 
know,  and  here  (producing  a  document)  is  his  answer, 
telling  me  to  pack  them  both  off  by  the  next  steamer  to 
him." 

'^  Moil  Dieu  I  we  sliall  be  desolated  at  losing  them. 
Eabctte,"  to  the  girl  who  answered  tlie  bell,  "go  tell 
Mesdemoiselles  Wood  and  Ilazelwood  that  their  guardian 
is  liero,  and  desires  to  sec  them  immediately." 

*'  Monsieur's  wards  are,  then,  the  two  young  ladies  I 
was  s})cakiug  to  ?  "  asked  Senor  Mendez. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  and  the  tall  and  handsome  one  is  the 
star  pu}nl  of  my  school.  Ah  I  how  much  we  sliall  regret 
her  I  But  I  hear  them  coming  ;  3iIonsieur  Mendez,  como 
this  Avay,  if  you  please.  Monsieur  Lance  may  desire  to 
be  alone  with  his  wards." 

The  preceptress  and  her  Cuban  friend  passed  out  just 
as  Eve  and  Hazel,  in  a  state  of  astonishment  as  to  what 
Doctor  Lance  could  possibly  want  at  such  a  time,  went  iu 
to  hear  the  unexpected  tidings. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


t-T-l' 


'       %  I 


EVE  S   FIIIST   PROPOSAL. 

TiTE  rliftmhres  a  couchcr,  as  Madame  Moreau's  young 
ladies  styled  what  common  people  call  their  bedrooms, 
were  situated  on  the  third  floor  of  i\\Q  pensiouiiat ;  and  all 
along  that  third  floor,  one  moonlight  night,  about  a  week 
after  the  rainy  afternoon  on  which  Eve  and  Hazel  quarreled, 
along  row  of  lights  twinkled.  In  these  apartments,  sacred 
to  youth,  be:iuty,  innocence,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing, 
the  whole  troupe  oipoisionnaires  above  the  age  of  ten  were 
gathered  :  and  great  was  the  bustle,  and  chatting,  and  con- 
fusion reigning  within.     Bustle  and  confusion,  in  fact,  had 


EVE'S  FIRST  PROPOSAL. 


125 


'^ 


re 


been  the  order  of  the  day.  The  whole  school  was  in  a  state 
of  unprecedented  excitement,  thinking  and  talking  of 
nothing  but  the  two  great  events  about  to  take  phice — the 
departure  of  Eve  and  Hazel  for  England,  and  Madame 
Schaffer's  grand  farewell-party,  given  the  night  before 
their  departure,  in  their  honor.  Tlie  misery  of  parting, 
which  had  cost  the  young  ladies  copious  showers  of  tears 
during  the  past  melancholy  ^veek,  was  lost  sight  of  to-night. 
They  were  all  sorry,  no  doubt,  but,  poor  caged  darlings  ! 
we  all  know  how  sweet  parties  were  in  our  board iug-school 
days.  Oh,  the  Elysium  dreams  of  the  sweet  youths  we 
were  to  dance  with  ;  the  delicious  visions  of  ice-cream, 
jellies,  boned  turkey,  aiul  hiane  'mauije  that  floated  before 
our  mind's  eyes  ;  and  how  utterly  we  forgot  the  existence 
of  Lindley  Murray,  the  rule  of  three,  and  the  dismal  to- 
morrow, in  the  whirl  of  the  waltz  and  the  glare  of  the  gas 
lights.  So  tha  j)e)isiu}ui((i res  arrayed  themselves  in  all  the 
purple  and  fine  linen  allowed  in  that  bread-and-butter- 
eating  age,  and  giggled,  and  gossiped,  and  lost  sight  of 
altogether  the  heartrending  parting  so  close  at  hand. 

In  one  of  these  rooms,  all  littered  over  with  garments, 
books,  half-packed  trunks,  and  traveling-bags,  two  (Ie7n- 
olselles  were  putting  the  finishing  touches  on  their  toilet. 
The  one  who  stood  before  the  glass,  eying  herself  com- 
l)lacently  from  tip  to  toe,  had  her  small  and  very  round- 
about figure  dra[)e(l  in  a  swelling  amplitude  of  pink  gauze, 
very  low-necked,  very  short  sleeved,  white  and  red  roses 
looping  up  the  full  skirt,  clasping  the  corsage,  clasping 
the  sleeves,  and  wreathed  in  and  out  the  bright  brown 
hair.  But  the  red  roses  paled  before  the  peony  hue  of 
lier  cheeks,  flushed  with  excitement  ;  and  the  stars  of  Can- 
cer, glittering  in  the  June  sky  outside,  were  not  brighter 
nor  starrier  than  the  shininof  brown  eves.  She  had  iust 
drenclied  a  pocket-liandkerchicf  in  Jockey  Club,  fil'ing 
the  room  with  ]>erfume,  and  flirting  out  her  gauzy  skirts, 
she  twirled  round  like  a  Avhirlwind,  and  settled  sud(k4dy 
down  before  her  com})anion,  in  what  cliildren  call  "  mak- 
ing a  cheese,"  her  pink  dress  ballooning  out  all  around 
her. 

^*  Ma  bonne  confine!  ma  chore  Princcssc  !   my  darling 
Eve  !  how  do  you  like  me  ?  " 

The  young  lady  addressed  stood  at  some  distance,  draw- 
ing on  her  gloves.     At  all  times,  in  any  dress,  Eve  liazel- 


I  :* 


l.s 


m 


126 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


f" 


wood  mnst  he  beautiful,  but  she  looked  unusually  lovely 
to-night.  It  might  have  been  that  her  dress  was  most  be- 
coming ;  amber  crape,  with  trimmings  of  rich  lace  and 
creamy  roses  ;  her  only  ornament  a  slender  gold  chain  and 
cross,  and  the  glossy  black  curls  falling  in  glittering  dark- 
ness over  her  shoulders.  If  Hazel  was  flushed,  Eve  was 
pale — something  unusual  for  her — and  that  and  tlie  pen- 
sive look  her  sweet  face  wore  gave,  perhaps,  the  new  charm 
to  her  fresh  young  beauty.  She  and  llnzel  had  smoked 
the  calumet  of  peace,  though  Miss  AVood  had  not  gone  to 
the  ball,  and  Mr.  Paul  Schaffer  had  lieard  the  whole  affair, 
and  formed  his  own  opinion  accordingly.  She  looked  up 
now,  and  surveyed  lier  cousin  with  a  critical  eye. 

"  You  look  in  good  health,  for  your  face  is  as  red  as 
your  dress,  but  you  smell  rather  strong  for  my  taste.  Why 
do  you  use  so  much  perfume  ?" 

"  Because  I  like  to  smell  nice ;  and  gentlemen  are 
something  like  hounds — they  follow  the  scent  !  Doesn't 
my  dress  fit  splendidly  ':^ " 

"  It's  a  great  deal  too  tight.  You'll  burst  out  of  your 
hooks  and  eyes  before  morning." 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort  ! "  indignantly.  "You 
wouldn't  have  me  go  in  a  bag,  I  hope  !  It  fits  like  a 
worsted  stcckini?  on  a  man's  nose  !  " 

CD 

"  Now,  Hazel,  you  know  you  broke  three  corset-laces 
screwing  yourself  up  before  you  could  get  it  in  !  You'll 
die  of  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  head,  if  you  are  not  care- 
ful I " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,'^  said  Hazel,  in  a  subdued  tone  ; 
**  I  feel  as  if  there  was  an  extra  quantity  of  the  fluid  up 
there  now.  But  whiit  is  one  to  do  ?  I  can't  go  looking 
like  a  hogshead  round  the  waist,  and  I  must  lace  up  to  be 
a  decent  figure.  I  don't  see  why  I  can't  be  thin  and 
genteel,  like  you  ;  it's  dreadful  to  be  so  fat  as  I  am  !  " 

"It's  a  harrowing  case,  certainly,"  said  Eva,  laughing  ; 
"  and  wluit's  moi-e,  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  help  for  it. 
However,  Paul  Schatfer  doesn't  mind " 

"  I)e:ir,  darling  Paul,"  burst  out  the  gushing  ^fiss 
AVood,  her  eyes  dancing  fandangos  in  her  head.  "  Oh, 
Eve  !  isn^t  it  good  of  him  to  come  to  England  with  us, 
all  on  my  account  ?  Nobody  need  say,  after  that,  he 
doesn't  care  for  me  !  " 

This  fact  was  quite  true.     Monsieur  Paul  Schaffer  had, 


EVE'S  FIRST  PROPOSAL. 


12/ 


t. 

|s3 

IS, 

he 


to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  announced  liis  intention  of 
going  over  the  Athmtic  in  the  same  steamer  with  Doctor 
Lance  and  his  wards.  Jlazel's  first  sensation,  on  being 
told  of  her  removal  to  anotlier  hind,  liad  ijecn  one  of  in- 
tensest  dismay.  Wiiat  will  Paul  say  ?  JIuw  could  I  leave 
Paul  ?  had  been  her  lirst  distracted  thought.  I'aul  settled 
the  matter  at  once. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  to  visit  Old  England  this  long 
time,  petite,"  ho  said  coolly,  "  and  now  is  the  time.  I 
will  go  over  with  you,  my  darling,  and  see  what  kind  of 
place  this  ancestral  home  of  you  Hazel  woods  is." 

And  from  that  instant  Hazel's  earthly  happiness  was 
complete. 

''1  don't  see  why  you  can't  like  him,  Eve,"  she  said, 
petulantly  ;  '•'  you  have  no  right  to  be  so  i)rejudiced.  If 
1  lost  him,"  with  a  little    passionate  gesture,  '•I  should 

die : " 

There  was  so  much  of  desperate  earnestness  in  poor 
Ilazcl's  tones,  that  Eve  was  touched.  She  took  the  burn- 
ing cheeks  between  her  cool  hands,  and  bending  dowji, 
kissed  her. 

''  My  darling,  I  will  trv  to  like  him  for  vour  sake,  but 
he  is  not  half  good  enough  for  you  !  " 

"  I  tell  you  he  is  !     He  is  good  enough  for  a  princess  I  " 

^•Xotfor  nie  I  "  laughed  Eve.  "i  v»ould  not  marry 
him  if  he  were  to  make  me  a  q  leen  !  But  all  to  their 
taste.     Are  you  engaged  ?  " 

'•  Xo — yes — I  don't  know.     He  loves  me,  and  I 


him — 
but  it 


that's  enough." 

*"  Is   it  ?     I  know  nothing   about  such  things 

seems  to  me  he  should  speak  to  our  guardian." 

^' What  I  to  that   old    death's-head -and- cross  -  bones, 

lV)ctor    Lance  ?     No,    think   you.      Wait    till   we   go    to 

England,  and  then  I  know^  he  will  ask  our  other  guardian, 

cousin  Arthur.     He  cannot  be  such  an  old  snapping-turtle, 

surely,  as  this  one.'^ 

''  ilazel,  look  here.     Is  he  my  cousin,  too 

"  Why,  of  course  he  is  I     Why  shonldrr't  he  be  ?  " 

^'I  don't  know,  but  sometimes  I  think — Hazel,  do  you 

know  I  scii"cely  ever  heard  any  thing  of  my  father  and 

mother  ?  " 

"Why,  they're  both   dead  and   buried  ages  ago,'' said 


5  -v 


i  t 


128 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


i 


\  m 


I     .Ti 


M 


Hazel,  drawing  on  her  gloves.     ^^What  on  earth  did  } on 
want  to  hear  about  them  ?  " 

"  Your  mother  never  would  speak  of  them.  She  used 
to  put  me  of!.  And  Doctor  Lance,  the  only  time  I  ever 
summoned  up  courage  enough  to  speak  to  him  on  tlie  snb- 
ject,  told  me  to  hold  my  tongue,  and  be  thankful  1  ever 
had  a  father  and  mother  at  all,  for  it  was  more  than  I  de- 
served." 

"  And  served  you  right,  too,"  was  Hazel's  sympathetic 
answer,  '''  dragging  dead  people  out  of  their  graves.  There, 
I  declare  they're  calling  us  !  Where's  my  hood  and  shawl  ? 
Are  you  ready  ?  " 

**  Yes,"  said  Eve,  hastily  donning  her  wraps  ;  ''  perhaps 
Babettc  and  Hermine  are  to  pack  up  for  ns,  and  have  our 
trunks  ready  wlien  called  for.     Are  they  not  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  yes.  come  along,  or  all  the  rest  will  get  into  the 
carriages  before  us,  and  we  will  get  our  dresses  awfully- 
mussed  up." 

Eva  cast  one  last  long  look  beiiind. 

^'  Good-by,  old  room,"  she  said  ;  "  I  have  been  very 
liappy  here — happier,  perhaps,  than  I  will  ever  be  in  the 
land  whore  I  am  going." 

Half  a  dozen  carriages,  not  to  speak  of  the  huge  carry- 
all belonging  to  the  school,  known  to  the  girls  as  NoaL^ 
Ark,  were  drawn  up  before  the  door,  and  the  ecstatic 
pciisioiuiaires  crowded  in,  and  in  twenty  minutes  were 
crowding  out  again  in  front  of  the  Schaffer  homestead. 
The  building  was  one  sheet  of  light  from  cellar  to  grenier  ; 
and  the  regimental  band,  perched  up  in  the  gallery  of  the 
ball-room,  was  in  full  blast  at  the  eternal  "  Vive  la  Can- 
tidiemie." 

*'Vive  la  Yankee-enne  ! "  commenced  Hazel  Wood, 
leaping  into  the  extended  coatsleeves  of  her  adored  Paul. 

"  We're  no  Canadians,  for  which,  oh,  be  joyful  !" 

*MVelcome,  ma  petite  !  ^^  exclaimed  Madame  Schaffer, 
sweeping  up,  gorgeous  to  look  at,  in  ruby  satin,  and  em- 
eralds, and  kissing  HazeFs  two  red  cheeks,  ''  and  welcome, 
my  lovely  Eve.  But,  Mo?i  Die?if  where  have  your  roses 
gone  to,  child  ?    You  are  as  white  as  a  spirit." 

'*  Hazel  has  them."    Eve  smiled  as  she  ran  up  stairs  to 

*'  Louis,  don't  pull  the  dress  off  my 
do  you  want  ?" 
waltz,  Eve  !    We're  parting — where  is  my 


her  dressing-room. 


T,  n 


EVE'S  FIRST  PROPOSAL. 


129 


•y- 


ad. 


er, 
ni- 
ne, 

3ses 

s  to 
my 


pocket-lijindkercliief  ?  It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be 
forever,  as  Kathleen  Mavourneen  remarks,  and  it's  tlie 
least  you  can  do.     Say  yes." 

**Ye3,  yes;  let  me  go!  Here  comes  Doctor  Lance 
and  Monsieur    D'Arville  I     They    will   say   we   are   ilirt- 

i»g-"  .  ... 

"  Tliey  never  made   a  greater    mistake   in  their  lives, 

then,"  said  Louis,  sauntering  oil,  while   Eve  ran  up-stairs 

after  the  rest. 

All  was  confusion  and  most  admired  disorder  in  the 
drawing-room,  v/here  every  one  was  talking  and  laughing 
at  the  tiptop  of  her  lungs,  and  paying  no  attention  to  her 
neighbor. 

"Talk  about  Babel  I "  exclaimed  Hazel,  tripping  past 
Eve,  "after  this  tumult.  Hurry  up,  Eve,  if  you  don't 
want  to  be  deafened  for  life." 

Eve,  consigning  lier  wraps  to  a  servant,  shook  out  her 
floating  skirts,  glanced  at  her  curls  and  at  the  bright  face 
the  mirror  reflected,  and  left  tlie  noisy  scene.  At  the  foot 
of  the  grand  staircase  she  encountered  Louis  Schaffer. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last  I "  cried  that  young  gentleman, 
briskly.  ''  What  a  shocking  length  of  time  it  does  take 
you  girls  to  settle  yonr  furbelows  !"  (Eve  had  been  gone 
about  six  minutes.)  '*  Come  along,  our  waltz  will  com- 
mence in  a  brace  of  shakes." 

*'  What  length  of  time  is  a  brace  of  shakes,  Louis  ?  " 
laughed  Eve,  as  she  took  his  arm  and  entered  the  bril- 
liantly-lighted and  well-fielld  ball-room. 

**  Never  you  mind,  it's  that  long.  Oh,  my,  what  have 
we  here  ?  " 

Quite  a  large  circle  were  gathered  nenr  the  center  of  the 
room,  who,  judging  from  tlieir  peals  of  laughter,  were 
evidently  enjoying  themselves  immensely.  Among  them, 
with  an  amused  smile  on  liis  face,  stood  Professor  D'Ar- 
ville,  and  in  the  center  of  tlie  group  stood  Paul  Schaffer, 
with  Hazel  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  wild  pensionnaires 
around  him. 

"Eve,  Eve,  come  here!"  called  Kate  Schaffer,  "and 
defend  yourself.  Hazel  Wood  is  telling  tales  out  of 
school." 

"Relating  dreadful  legends  of  your  goings  on  in  Xew 
"York,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  young  professor,  turning 


iV 


my 


^4 


II 


I30 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


Nf^l 


;|1 


;!-! 


his  amused  face  to  the  young  hid y  he  addressed.  ''Are 
tliey  all  true  ?  " 

"Of  course  tliey  are/^  shrilly  cried  Ilazeh  ''I  never 
tell  fibs." 

''Except  where  the  truth  don't  answer,"  put  iu  Louis 
Scl] alter,  .soflo  voce. 

"Mr.  SchafTer,  I'll  thank  you  not  to  be  impertinent; 
you  know  nothing  about  it.  Oh,  we  used  to  have  glorious 
times  in  the  long  vacations,  and  Eve,  prim  as  she  looks, 
can't  deny  it.  We  used  to  promenade  J^roadway — clean, 
delightful,  delicious  Broadway — at  all  hours  of  the  day 
and  night,  staring  at  the  nice  young  men  loafing  and  pick- 
ing their  teeth  on  the  liotel  steps,  disporting  ourselves 
Sundays  in  the  Park  on  two  charming  ponies  we  had,  and 
turning  the  heads  of  everything  masculine  we  came  across  ! 
Didn't  we  Eve  ?  " 

"  Do  come  away,  said  Eve  to  Louis,  her  cheeks  flushing, 
and  feeling  annoyed  beyond  measures,  she  scarcely  knew 
why,  at  Hazel's  exaggerated  expose.  Perhaps  because 
Paul  Schaffer  was  staring  at  her  so  olTensively  as  he 
caressed  his  mustache  ;  perhaps,"  because  of  that  amused 
and  queer  smile  on  Monsieur  D'Arville  handsome  Creole 
face  ;  perhaps, — but  who  can  read  a  girl's  reasons  when 
she  cannot  even  do  it  herself. 

"  Then  there  was  Burnum's  Museum  in  the  afternoon," 
went  on  the  reckless  Hazel,  "  when  we  used  to  go  to  the 
theater,  and  ])ush,  and  pull,  a?id  crowd  in  with  the  rest  of 
the  female  mob  who  frcquen  that  palace  of  wonders. 
And  oh,  such  a  fascinating  young  policeman  that  used  to 
grab  us  by  the  shoulder  and  land  us  across,  through  a 
delirious  maze  of  stages,  cars,  carts,  coaches,  and  every 
other  kind  of  vehicle  under  heaven,  from  a  wheelbarrow 
wy).  He  was  my  first,  my  last,  my  only  love,  that  nice 
young  policeman  ;  and  I  know  Eve  was  in  a  worse  state 
about  him  than  I !  " 

"  Louis,  Louis,  come  away  I  "  Eve  repeated,  every  vein 
tingling  with  the  intense  mortification  ;  but  Louis  was 
enjoying  the  fun  amazingly,  and  held  her  fast. 

"And  what's  more,"  Hazel  continued,  lowering  her 
voice  to  a  tlirilliug  whisper,  "  we  used  to  go  to  the  Bowery 
Theater.  Our  gentlemen  wouldn't  take  us  there,  so  we 
paid  the  waiter-man  in  the  house  where  we  boarded  to 
escort  us.    Eve  only  went  once,  and  after  hard  coaxing 


EVE'S  FIRST  PROPOSAL. 


131 


!e 


.0 
g 


then  ;  but  I  went  lots  of  times,  and  there  never  was  sueh 
f'ln.     Oh,  my  lieart  will  certainly  break  after  Ts'ew  York." 

**  Tor  pity's  sake,  Louis,  let  me  go  I''  Eve  desperately 
cried  ;  and  Louis,  looking  at  her,  saw  her  whole  face 
flushed,  and  her  eyes  full  of  tears  of  bitter  humiliation. 
More  keenly  even  than  she  felt  for  herself,  she  felt  for 
Hazel,  who,  of  an  excitable  nature  at  all  times,  seemed 
lialf  out  of  herself  to  nic^ht. 

"  What,  you're  never  crying.  Eve  !  '  exclaimed  Louis  ; 
a.nd  Professor  D'Arville  glanced  at  the  beautiful,  mortified 
face  through  his  half-closed  eyes.  "  "What  a  geese  you 
are,  to  be  sure  !     Oh,  hero's  our  waltz.     OIT  we  go  then." 

Very  little  the  belle  of  the  ball — for  such  undeniably 
Eve  was — enjoyed  that  waltz. 

''  llow  he  must  despise  me  !  "  her  jiaincd  heart  kept  cry- 
ing bitterly  all  the  time. 

"  He  !  "  Ah,  that  tell-tale  little  pronoun — even  Eve, 
the  iceberg,  had  come  to  it  iil  last. 

Louis  would  have  carried  her  olf  in  search  of  ice  when 
the  dance  was  concluded,  but  Eve  shook  him  olf  rather 
peremptorily,  and  started  in  search  of  her  cousin,  bent  on 
reading  her  a  lecture.  Hi  the  cool  recess  of  a  deep  window 
she  found  her  seated,  flushed  after  the  waltz,  fanning  her- 
self violently,  and  fortunately  alone.  Paul  Schaffer  had 
gone  in  search  of  a  glass  of  ice  v\'ater  for  his  hot  little 
partner.  Eve  broke  upon  her,  with  scarlet  cheeks  and 
flashing  eyes,  and  began  the  attack  without  preface. 

'^  Hazel,  have  you  gone  mad  ?  AYhat  did  you  mean  by 
telling  all  those  atrocious  fables  to  that  gaping  crowd  half 
an  hour  ago,  and  making  us  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
room  ?  If  you  have  no  respect  for  yourself,  you  might 
have  a  little  consideration  for  me." 

*' Eh?"  said  Hazel,  looking  up  in  surprise.  '^  AVhat's 
all  this  about  ?     What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"The  matter  I "  said  Eve,  in  a  tone  of  suppressed 
passion.  *'  You  made  a  pretty  show  of  yourself  and  me  to- 
night, did  you  not  ?  " 

*'  La  !  I  only  told  the  truth  I  " 

*'  It  was  not  the  truth  ;  at  least,  you  exaggerated  most 
shamefully.  AVhat  must  those  who  heard  you  think  ? 
Professor  D'Arville  will  have  a  fine  opinion  of  his  pupils." 

*'  Bah  !     Who  cares  !     An  old  schoolmaster  like  him  !" 

"  He  is  not  a  schoolmaster  ! " 


iV 


n.2 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


'I 

-i 


I* 


'™ 


i 


m 


-  i 


"  Positive,  school  ;  comparative,  schoolmaster  ;  super- 
lative, professor  !  It's  worse  !  Besides,  we  are  not  his 
pupils  any  more  ;  we  are  going  to  '  Merrie  England/ 

'  England,  my  country — great  and  free ! 
Heart  of  the  world  !  I  leap  to  thee  !  ' 

Professor  D'Arville  may  go  to  grass  I  " 

*'  I  have  only  one  thing  to  say,"  exclaimed  Eve,  who, 
being  only  mortal — poor  thing  ! — like  the  rest  of  us,  was 
intensely  angry  :  "  that  if  I  ever  hear  you  telling  such 
abominable  tales  again,  you  and  I  will  not  be  friends  for 
the  rest  of  our  lives  !     Remember  that  I  " 

Paul  Schaifer  was  coming  up  with  the  ice-water,  and 
Eve  swept  away,  catching  Hazel's  shrill  exclamation  as  she 
went  : 

'^  Why,  Paul,  here's  Eve  raging  like  a  Bengal  tiger  be- 
cause I  said  all  that  awhile  ago,  and  Professor  O'x'Vrville 
heard  it.     Did  you  ever  ?  " 

In  no  mood  at  that  moment  for  enjoyment,  and  hot  al- 
most as  Hazel  herself,  Eve  stepped  through  one  of  the 
large  French  windows,  out  on  the  lawn  for  the  drawing- 
room  was  on  the  ground  floor.  Something  else  had  an- 
noyed her  on  the  way  ;  Kate  Schaffer  was  singing,  like  a 
nightingale,  some  charming  Italian  songs,  and  Professor 
D'Arville  was  standing  by  the  piano,  turning  over  her 
music  with  an  entranced  face,  drinking  in  every  note,  with 
eyes  and  ears  for  her  alone.  Poor  Eve  !  Siiehad  got  into 
a  most  unhappy  state  of  mind  that  night,  and  everything 
was  going  wrong.  Kate  Schaffer  was  a  handsome  girl,  an 
heiress,  and  the  daughter  of  the  house,  no  doubt ;  but  why 
need  Professor  D'Arville  be  blind  to  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  beeiiuse  of  that  ? 

The  weird,  white  summer-moon,  sailing  serenely  up  in  the 
blue-black  concave  of  heaven,  with  her  myriad  of  stars  keep- 
ing court  about  her,  looked  down  on  the  flushed  cheek  and 
troubled  breast  of  tlic  young  girl  leaning  against  the  pine- 
tree,  as  it  lias  looked  on  many  another  young  girl  in  similiar 
trouble.  Eve  saw  nothing  of  the  solemn  Ijeauty  of  the 
night.  Slie  was  thinking  that  to-morrow  she  left  Canada 
forever,  and  perhaps  tlie  first  news  she  would  hear  in  fai- 
otf  England  would  be  the  marriage  of  Monsieur  D'Arville 
and  Kate  Schaffer.  There  was  no  earthly  reason  why  such 
an  event  should  disturb  her,  but  it  did  disturb  her  signally  ; 


I 


^'i.U: 


f 


EVE'S  FIRST  PROPOSAL. 


^SS 


and,  just  as  she  was  brooding  drearily  over  it,  two  gentle- 
men came  up  tiie  path  to  the  house,  smoking  cigars  and 
talking.  Eve  recognized  them,  and  drew  back  into  the 
shadow  of  the  trees.  One  was  her  guardian.  Doctor  Lance  ; 
the  other,  Monsieur  Schalfer,  senior. 

"  And  so,"  Monsieur  Schaffer  was  saying,  "  D'Arville 
has  really  accepted  this  situation  ?  " 

**  D'Arville  has  really  accepted  the  situation  of  secretary 
to  Mr.  Arthur  Hazelwood,  and  goes  to  England  in  the 
same  steamer  with  me,''  Doctor  Lance  replied.  "Iliad 
no  idea  he  would  when  I  spoke  to  him  about  it- -told  him 
Hazelwood  had  written  to  me  to  find  and  fetch  him  a  com- 
petent secretary — the  man  himself  always  was  abominably 
lazy  from  a  boy.  I  spoke  to  D'Arville  to  see  if  he  knew 
any  one  in  Montreal  who  would  suit.     Ilis  answer  wiis  : 

'^ '  Yes.' 

"  '  Who  is  he  ? '  I  asked. 

"'  '  Myself,'  was  his  reply. 

"  Of  course,  1  jumped  at  the  offer — saved  me  trouble, 
you  see.  The  salary  is  a  good  one,  the  situation  easy  ; 
but  D'Arville  is  a  fool,  for  all  that.  The  young  nuin  has 
talent,  and  I  iiever  before  thought  he  wanted  ambition." 

The  two  passed  in,  and  Kve  came  out  fi'oni  the  shadow 
with  an  altered  face  and  an  a'tered  heart.  As  she  did  so, 
a  step  sountied  behind  her  ;  a  tall  iigui'c  was  by  her  side 
in  the  moonlight,  and  Paul  Schail'er'sdark  eyes  were  u])ou 
lier  face.  Something  in  that  look  startled  Eve.  She 
turned  to  go,  but  he  detained  her. 

"  Why  do  you  always  fiy  from  me  when  I  come  near  ?  '' 
he  asked.     *'  Am  I  so  very  hateful  to  you  :  " 

Eve  was  naturally  straightforward  and  truthful  in  the 
extreme.  She  merely  closed  her  lips  by  Avay  of  answer, 
and  stood  looking  straight  before  lu;r.  Paul  Schaffer 
lowered  his  voice,  his  eyes,  and  his  tall  head. 

"  I  have  been  searching  I'oryou  the  past  iifteen  minutes. 
I  have  somethinsf  verv  particular  to  sav."" 

Eve's  heart  beat  faster,  and  for  one  instant  she  glanced 
hurriedly  around,  as  if  to  ily. 

"  Xo,  no!  You  must  not  go!  Miss  irazelwood— Eve 
— you  leave  Canada  to-morrow.  I  must  speak  to  vou  to- 
night !" 

*'  I  must  go  into  the  house  !  "  Eve  said,  in  a  violent 
tremor.     "  I  shall  be  missed  I  " 


134 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


i 

* 

j   : 

ti 

She  turned  to  go,  but  he  caught  her,  and  the  words  she 
dreaded  to  hear  were  spoken.  With  a  sharjicry  she  broke 
from  him,  and  stood,  with  parted  lips  and  panting  heart, 
looking  at  him  with  dilated  eyes. 

'^  I  love  you,  Eve  I "  he  still  cried.     "  May  I  liope  ?" 

The  eyes  that  looked  at  him  were  full  of  horror,  and  her 
hands  flew  up  and  covered  lier  face. 

"^  Oh,  Hazel !  Hazel  !  Hazel  !  "  was  her  bitter  cry. 

''  I  do  not  care  for  her  !  I"  never  did  !  I  care  only  for 
you  !     Eve,  listen  to  me " 

But  Eve  was  gone.  Back  into  the  house  she  sought  re- 
fuge in  a  remote  and  closely-curtained  window,  and 
crouched  down,  feeling  as  if  her  wliole  life  had  changed 
within  the  hour,  as  if  the  earth  were  reeling  under  her  feet, 
and  youth,  and  innocence,  and  happy  girlhood  gone  like 
a  dream. 

Yes,  Eve,  the  happy  days  of  careless  youth  have  gone 
forever ;  womanliood  with  its  deeper  joys  and  sorrows 
opens  before  you,  and  the  Book  of  Life  has  turned  over  a 
new  page. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

HAZELWOOD    HALL. 

PiEii  Xo. — was  crowded.  Throngs  of  people  were  pour- 
ing to  it  in  one  steady  stream  ;  carts,  carriages  and  vehicles 
of  all  sorts  rattled  over  the  stony  city  street,  and  deposited 
their  inside  freight  of  travelers  and  their  outside  freight 
of  baggage  on  the  thronged  pier,  blazing  under  ii  scorching 
July  sun. 

"  Everybody  "  was  supposed  to  have  left  Xew  York,  but 
New  York  looked  tolerably  full  yet,  judging  from  the 
number  in  this  particular  spot,  coming  to  see  their  friends 
otf  for  EngUuid,  or  from  idle  curiosity.  Tlie  steamer's 
deck  was  thronged,  too  ;  in  fact,  every  availa])le  portion  of 
the  steamer,  excepting  tlie  smokepipc,  was  thronged,  and 
great  and  mighty  Avas  tlie  upi'ojir  tliereof. 

Among  tlie  many  groups,  a  little  knot  of  four  persons 
stood,  two  ladies  and  two  gentlemen.  Place  aux  danws  ! 
The  ladies  were  very  young,  mere  girls  in  their  teens,  and 
one  very  pretty.  It  was  the  tall  one  with  the  coquettish 
turban  that  sat  so  jauntily  on  her  black  curls,  the  scarlet 


HAZELWOOD  HALL 


135 


f 


tip  of  its  black  plume  not  brighter  than  the  living  scarlet 
on  clieek  and  lip  ;  her  tightly-fitting  black  basqnine  show- 
ing off  to  perfection  a  superb  figure,  lithe  and  slender  as 
a  young  willow,  and  the  ir:orning  sunlight  floated  back 
from  a  pair  of  luminous  dark  eyes,  of  unfatliomable  depth 
and  brightness.  She  leaned  lightly  against  the  railing, 
the  breeze  fluttering  her  gray  dress,  the  black  lace  veil 
she  held  in  her  gloved  hand,  waving  like  a  black  banner, 
the  jetty  curls,  and  deepening  the  roses  in  hur  cheeks,  as 
she  gazed  at  the  crowd  before  her  and  talked  Wi,.]i  her 
companion. 

It  urns  the  other  young  lady,  a  jolly  liotle  damsel,  plump 
and  dcbonnairc,  whose  laughing  face  was  all  aglow  with 
excitement,  and  whose  tongue  ran  in  a  i)er]ietual  flow  of 
title-tattle.  For  the  gentlemen  :  one  was  dark,  elderly, 
sharp-looking,  and  wore  spectacles  ;  the  other  young, 
eminently  handsome,  and  languidly  indifferent  to  the 
vulgar  uproar  about  liim. 

Of  course  you  recognize  them — Eve,  Hazel,  Doctor 
Lance  anl  Professor  J3'Arville — professor  no  longer,  I)ufc 
simply  Monsieur  Claude  D\\rville,  sci^'ctary  to  the  Hon- 
orable Arthur  Ilazelwood,  of  Hazelwood,  County  of  Essex, 
England.    And  they  are  fairly  off  on  their   journey  at  last. 

And  Hazel's  chattering  tongue  was  running  on  inces- 
santly. 

"Eve,  look  there  I     How  killingly  that  gentleman  step- 
ping from   the  hack    is  got  up  !     Why,  my  goodness  !     I 
declare  if  it's  not  Don  Signor  Monsieur  .Mustache   Whis 
kerando  himself  I " 

Eve  looked,  knowing  very  well  wlio  Tlazel  meant,  and. 
sav,'  a  foreign-looking  and  most  distinguished  gentleman 
alight  from  a  hack,  liis  cloak  over  his  shoulder,  in  s})iteof 
the  heat  of  that  boilinLr  Julv  morning,  and  liis  sombrcn'o 
pulled  over  his  eyes.  Tlio  memory  of  a  moonlight  night, 
of  a  Canadian  village,  and  a  sh-anger  sli[)ping  uj)  to  the 
gate  over  which    she  leaned,  fliislied  back    on  Eve's  mind. 

'^It's  ^Mister  ^lendez,  1  vow  1"  Hazel  was  crying.  "It 
can't  be  possible,  you  know,  that  he " 

Hazel  stopped  suddenly.  Among  the  surging  sea  of 
liuman  beings,  ebbing  and  flowing  on  the  pier,  another 
form  had  caught  her  eyes,  that  of  a  young  man,  who  ap- 
proached Senor  Mendez,  ])assed  his  arm  through  his  and 
walked  with  Lim  on   board.     Eve  saw  hiiu  at  the  same 


M 
r  ' 

i' 


136 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


i 


fc"f 


.1 


if'   i 


time,  and  lier  brows  contracted  in  si)ite  01  IJazel's  joyful 
little  cry  : 

''  Oh,  Eve  !  tliere  is  Paul !  " 

'*  I  see  liim  !"  Eve  said,  in  a  vexed  tone,  "  and  they  are 
coming  here  I  " 

Slie  tl)re\v  the  veil  she  held  over  lier  hat  to  hide  her 
tiushed  and  annoved  face.  She  had  not  seen  Paul  8chalfer 
since  that  memorable  night  at  his  aunt's,  and  the  scene 
under  the  pine-tree  came  back,  and  its  hateful  memory 
burned  like  fire  in  her  face.  Some  one  touched  'ler  lii>"htlv 
on  the  shoulder,  and  D'Arville's  dark  eyes  were  piercing 
througli  the  vail. 

"  Here  are  two  of  your  friends,  mademoiselle.  Ah  !  I 
perceive  you  have  seen  them  !  " 

His  tone  and  smile  annoyed  her  intensely,  but  the  two 
new-comers  had  forced  their  way  along  the  deck  and  stood 
before  them,  hat  in  hand. 

Very  coldly,  very  slightly,  Miss  Ilazelwood  acknowledged 
Mr.  Schalfer's  salute,  choosing  to  ignore  altogether  the 
liand  he  extended,  but  Talleyrand  himself  never  was  more 
completely  Jind  utterly  nonchalant  than  he.  If  the  waters 
of  Lethe  h'.:d  been  a  reality,  and  he  had  drunk  out  the 
memory  of  this  last  iiitorview,  Paul  Schaffer  could  not 
have  been  one  whit  more  at  his  ease. 

If  Eve's  greeting  lacked  warmth,  Hazel's  made  up  for 
it  ;  she  pushed  her  hand  through  Paul's  arm,  as  one  hav- 
ing the  right,  and  bore  him  off,  Avhiie  the  Cuban  prince 
attached  himself  to  Doctor  Lance  and  D'Arville.  So  Eve 
stood  quite  alone,  listening  to  the  storm  of  good-bys  on 
every  hand  and  watching  the  receding  shore  as  they 
steamed  away  on  their  outward-bound  course,  to  the  part- 
ing cheer  from  the  land,  and  then  a  mist  came  over  the 
briarht,  dark  eves. 

"Good-by  to  America!  my  native  land  !  ^'  her  heart 
cried.  "1  have  been  very  happy  tliere — how  will  it  bo 
with  me  in  the  land  to  which  1  go  ?  " 

There  was  no  prophetic  voice  in  Eve's  soul  to  answer 
the  question.  The  merciful  veil  that  shrouds  the  future 
no  enrthly  eyes  might  pierce  ;  and  Eve  stopped  in  her 
musings  to  listen  to  a  girlisli  voice  near,  singing,  clear 
and  sweet,  Childc  llaroUrs  farewell  to  England  : 


HAZELWOOD  HALL.  137 

"  Adieu,  adieu  !  my  native  shore 
Fades  o'er  the  waters  hhie, 
The  niglit-svindssigh,  the  breakers  roar, 
And  shrieks  the  wild  seumew ! 

"  Yon  sun  that  sets  upon  the  sea 
We  follow  in  his  flight, 
Farewell  awhile  to  him  and  thee — 
My  native  land,  good-night!" 

"  Not  good  night,  tlie  Lord  be  tlianked  !"  said  a  broad 
voice,  cutting  in,  ''  for  it's  just  breakfast-time  !  " 

Tliere  was  a  general  langli  and  rush  for  the  cabin. 
D'Arville  smilingly  offered  his  arm  to  Eve,  and  sentiment 
was  presently  lost  sight  of  in  sandwielies  ;  and  coffee  and 
beefsteaks  took  the  place  of  tears  and  parting  regrets. 

"AVill  you  be  sea-sick,  mademoiselle  ?"  Senor  jVIendez 
asked  Eve. 

They  were  all  sitting  up  on  deck  again,  tlie  land  nearly 
out  of  sight,  and  Eve  was  between  the  Creole  and  D'Ar- 
ville. 

'' I  don't  know,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  Tlnit  remains 
to  be  seen  yet.  This,  you  know,  is  my  first  voyage.  Shall 
you  ?  " 

'^  Oh,  no  I  I  am  an  old  sailor,  and  I  never  was  sick  in 
mv  life." 

*' You  are  fortunate,"  said  D'Arville.  '*  As  for  me,  I 
expect  to  take  my  stateroom  in  an  hour,  and  be  obliged 
to  keep  it  until  we  reach  Southampton." 

'^  My  case  exactly,"  growled  Doctor  Lance.  ^' Among 
all  wise  proverbs,  'Praise  the  sea,  but  keep  on  land,^  is 
the  wisest.  And  to  think  I  must  endure  it  all  for  a 
couple  of  wretched  girls " 

The  crabbed  little  doctor's  voice  died  away  piani.ssiino, 
in  a  succession  of  growls  ;  and  Hazel,  who  sat  next  him, 
rose  abruptlv,  with  a  very  white  and  miserable  face. 

"  I— I  think  ni  go  below  !     I  don't  feel " 

"No,  I  should  think  you  didn't,"  said  Paul,  trying  to 
keep  grave,  but  laughing  in  s})ite  of  himself,  as  Iljizel's 
voice  died  away.     "  Allow  me  to  lead  you  down-stuirs." 

Eve  followed,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  day  wjis  kept  busy 
enough  waiting  on  Hazel,  who  was  wretchedly  sick,  ;i]id 
amid  her  groans,  and  throes,  and  tears,  protested  she  must 
die. 

It  was  late  on  the  second  day  of  the  voyage  before  Eve 


;  ,ii 


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138 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


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''  Ah  :  then  Ave  can  syrnpatliize.  I  have  spent  half  tlie 
coiihl  leave  her  and  go  on  deck  to  catch  a  monthful  of 
fresh  air.  Fortunately  for  her  she  had  escaped  the  mal- 
de-mer  completely  ;  and  beyond  being  fagged  out  waiting 
on  her  sick  and  cross  little  cousin  felt  as  well  as  when 
she  had  started. 

Wofnlly  thin  the  deck  looked  to  what  it  had  done  at 
the  starting  ;  very  few  ladies  were  there,  and  among  the 
gentlemen  only  one  face  was  familiar.  He  was  leaning 
over  the  side  watching  the  moon  rise,  red  and  round,  out 
of  the  sea,  like  some  fiery  Venus,  and  smoking  a  cigar, 
but  he  threw  it  over  board  and  startedupat  siglit  of  Eve. 

"  A  thousand  welcomes,  mademoiselle  !  I  am  liappier 
than  happy  to  find  you  able  to  come  up  once  more." 

*'  Oh,  I  have  not  been  sick,  monsieur,"  Eve  said,  laugh- 
ing, and  answering  in  French,  as  Senor  Mendez  had  set 
the  example.  '-I  have  only  been  sick-nurse.  My  poor 
cousin  is  half  dead  ! " 

*'  I  regret  to  hear  it.  Here,  sit  down  and  let  us  see  if 
this  fresh  breeze  will  not  blow  your  roses  back.  They 
have  wilted  altogether  in  tlnit  steaming  and  suffocating 
cabin." 

"=  Where  arc  all  the  rest  ?"Eve  asked,  taking  the  pref- 
er ed  stool. 

*'  In  the  same  predicament  asyonr  cousin — all  at  death's 
door.  Messieurs  Lance,  D'Arville,  and  Schaffcr  ;  and  Iiob- 
inson  Crusoe,  in  his  desert,  island,  never  was  lonelier  tliau 
I  !  Providence,  mademoiselle,  mnst  have  sent  you  direct 
to  my  relief  ;  for  I  was  falling  into  despair,  and  meditat- 
ing a  leap  overboard  and  into  the  other  world,  as  you  came 
up." 

**  And  out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire  !  " 

*'  Quen  sdhe?'^  said  the  Creole,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
*^  we  must  only  hope  for  the  best  !  Look  at  that  moon- 
rise,  mademoiselle — I  have  heard  you  were  an  artist." 

''Who  told  you  so  ?" 

*'  Monsieur  D'Arville — he  is  a  great  friend  of  yours." 

Eve's  face  flushed. 

'*  He  was  my  teacher — at  least,  he  would  have  been, 
had  we  not  left  Canada.     I  am  no  artist — I  wish  I  were." 

''I  wish  you  were  :  you  might  immortalize  yourself  to- 
night.    Do  you  care  for  the  sea  ?" 

*' Care,  is  not  the  word,  monsieur — I  love  it.'* 


> 


HAZELWOOD  HALL. 


139 


last  fifteen  years  roving  over  land  and  sea.     One  of  these 
rolling  stones  that  gather  no  moss." 

They  were  both  silent,  he  looking  straight  before  him 
at  the  red  moonrise,  and  the  girl  watching,  under  her 
eyelaslies,  the  bronzed,  handsome  face,  and  the  silver 
tlireads  gleaming  in  and  out  the  raven  hair. 

"  ^Monsieur  has  been  a  great  traveler,  then  ?  "  she  said, 
at  length,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

'*  Over  the  world,  mademoiselle,  from  Dan  to  Beersheba. 
I  have  ridden  camels  in  Egypt,  smoked  cigars  under  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem,  slept  in  skins  in  an  Esquimaux  hut, 
and  been  grilled  alive  in  the  jungles  of  India  and  the 
forests  of  Africa.  As  for  Europe — I  think  there  is  not  a 
village  on  tlie  wiiole  continent  I  have  not  done,  and  found 
the  whole  thing  an  insufferable  bore." 

"And  you  have  been — but  why  need  I  ask — of  course, 
you  liave  been  in  England  ?" 

''  Yes,  mademoiselle  ;  I  have  explored  that  island — I 
have  even  beheld  Hazel  wood  Hall." 

"  Indeed  ?"  Eve  cried,  vividly  interested.  "  I  should 
like  to  hear  r.bout  that.     Is  it  long  ago  ?  " 

"^  Some  five  years.  It  is  a  fine  old  place,  or  would  be  in 
the  hands  of  any  other  man  than  tlie  Honora])le  Arthur 
llazclwood.     But  pardon — he  is  your  relative  ?" 

''  I  know  nothing  about  him  ;  I  never  saw  him  in  my 
life.     Is  he  a  mauvais  siijvt,  then  ?" 

"  lie  is — but  I  shall  tell  you  nothing  about  him — you 
must  read  him  for  yourself.  I  fear  you  will  find  your  new 
homo  rather  lonely — the  owner  of  Ilazelwood  Hall  receives 
no  visitors,  and  never  goes  out." 

"  A  recluse,  is  he  ?    Did  you  see  Miss  Forest  ?  " 

'"  The  pale  lady  with  the  light  hair,  who  keeps  house 
for  him  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  saw  her  ;  she  never  goes  out,  either 
— they  grow  old  there,  like  jjotatoes  in  a  cellar." 

"  Ancl  the  place  around — what  is  it  ? — a  town,  a  village, 
a  wilderness — or  what  ?  " 

*'  A  village,  very  pretty,  very  picturesque.  They  call  it 
Monks  wood.'' 

"  And  Ilazelwood  Hall  is  the  place  of  the  place  ?  " 

"  J3y  no  means  !  It  is  eclipsed  altogether  by  another 
place  some  seven  miles  oil,  far  older,  far  grander,  and  far 
more  revered.  Its  name  is  Bhickmonks — Blackmonks 
Priory — and  its  owner  is  Lord  Landsdowne." 


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140 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


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*'  Oil  !  and  the  village  has  taken  its  name  from  the 
prior}''  ?  " 

"Exactly.  Long  ago,  when  Mary  was  queen  in  Eng- 
land, this  priory  of  Blackmonks  was  founded  there,  under 
her  patronage.  When  Elizabeth  came  into  power,  the 
monks  were  sent  adrift,  and  l^aron  Landsdowne,  a  sturdy 
old  warrior,  whoso  portrait  still  adorns  the  grand  entrance- 
hall,  took  this  place.  It  has  been  in  tlie  possession  of  the 
I^andsdownes  ever  since,  and  is  likel}  to  be  while  the  race 
lasts." 

'*Is  the  present  Lord  Landsdowne  resident  at  the 
priory  ?" 

''Xot  when  I  was  there — he  was  on  the  continent  with 
his  lady,  lie  must  have  been  a  fine  fellow,  for  he  was 
idolized  in  the  place.  1  think  I  would  like  Blackmonks  ; 
it  is  quite  maguifieent  in  its  ancient  grandeur,  I  assure 
you.     Ilazelwood  dwindles  into  notliing  beside  it." 

''  And  Mr.  ILizelwood  is  not  liked  in  Monkswood  ?" 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,  mademoiselle,  he  is  looked  upon  as 
a  good  deal  of  a  stranger,  and  considerable  of  an  intruder. 
lie  is  a  Yankee,  too — I  beg  your  pardon,"  seeing  her  flush 
hotly  ;  "  and,  in  short,  there  is  no  love  lost  between  them. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  different  now — I  will  find  out  when  I 
go  there." 

^'  Are  you  going  there  ?  " 

'*'  Yes  ;  I  have  business  in  Essex.  Well,  sir,  what  do 
you  want  ? " 

This  last  was  addressed  to  one  of  the  cabin-waiters  who 
approached  them.  The  man  wanted  i\liss  Ilazelwood — 
the  sick  young  lady  in  Xo.  35  had  sent  him  in  search  of 
her  ;  and  Eve  had  to  go. 


That  evening's  conversation  was  but  the  beginning  of 
many.  Senor  Mendez  was  clieering — he  beguiled  the  long 
hours  for  lier  with  wonderful  stories  of  his  adventures  in 
India,  Africa,  China,  and  the  Holy  Land — Eve  thought 
the  Thousand  and  One  were  nothing  to  him.  Then, 
too,  after  the  first  week,  D'Arville  was  able  to  come 
up,  a  little  wan  and  sjiectral  at  first,  after  his  sickness — 
but  Eve  blushed  frankly  at  seeing  him,  and  held  out  her 
hand  with  a  shy  grace,  tiiat  might  have  bewitched  old 
Diogenes  himself  and,  very  pleasant  to  Miss  Evangeline 
Ilazelwood  was  tlie  voyage  after  that  ;  at  least,  the  hours 
spent  on  deck.     Doctor  Lance,  being  as  poor  a  sailor  as 


HAZELWOOD  HALL. 


141 


J 


his  elder  ward,  was  invisible  also;  and  though  Paul  Schaffer 
made  his  appearance  on  deck,  Eve  was  very  little  troubled 
with  him.  Once,  finding  her  alone,  he  had  attempted  to 
accost  her  with  his  customary  cool  nonchalance,  but  La 
Princesitie  had  drawn  back  and  up,  with  eyes  tliat  Hashed 
bhick  flames,  and  had  swept  past  him  in  sucii  superb,  silent 
scorn,  that  even  he  never  attempted  it  again.  Eve  had 
not  seen  the  ominous  smile  with  which  he  looked  after 
her,  nor  heard  his  half-muttered  words. 

"  My  bird  of  Paradise  sails  high,  but  I  think  I  will  clip 
her  glittering  wings  before  long.  La  PriJicesse  reigns  it 
right  royally,  bat  I  think  I  will  humble  her  pride  before 
she  is  many  weeks  older.  I5e  as  scornful  as  you  like,  my 
dear  Eve — smile  as  sweetly  as  you  please  on  Monsieur 
D'Arville — we  will  change  your  tune  when  you  are  Ma- 
dame Schaffer  ;  for  Madame  Schaffer  you  will  be,  in  spite 
of  earth  and  all  it  contains  !  " 

From  that  time  until  the  end  of  the  voyage,  Monsieur 
Schaffer  never  attempted  to  address  Eve  when  alone  ;  but 
when  others  were  with  her,  and  she  could  not,  without  ex- 
citing remark,  help  answering  him,  he  was  ever  near,  in 
spite  of  brightly  angry  glances,  forcing  answers  from  her 
reluctant  lips. 

When  they  entered  the  railway-carriage,  at  Southamp- 
ton, it  was  he  who  handed  her  in,  leaving  Miss  Hazel,  who 
had  a  sick  and  sea-green  look  still,  to  the  care  of  D'Arville. 
He  sat  beside  lier,  too,  all  the  way  ;  for  he  was  going  to 
Essex  first ;  he  might  as  well  travel  with  company  while 
he  could,  he  said  ;  and  his  proximity  spoiled  the  journey 
for  the  young  lady. 

D'Arville  devoted  himself  to  Hazel,  who  looked  worried 
and  jealous  ;  and  Doctor  Lance  was  deep  in  discussion 
with  Senor  Mendez  on  some  new  scientific  discovery. 

Eve  was  heartily  glad  when,  in  the  golden  sunset  of  an 
August  evening,  thev  rattled  up  co  the  terminus,  and  she 
saw  the  word,  *^  Mox.kswood,"  painted  above  the  little 
station. 

**  You  come  with  me,  I  presume,  monsieur  ?  "  Senor 
Mendez  said,  leaning  forward,  and  speaking  to  Mr. 
Schaffer. 

''  Of  course.  We  are  fellow-voyagers  in  our  pilgrimage 
through  this,  to  me,  unknown  land.  Is  there  u  hotel  in. 
this  one-horse  village  ?  " 


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142 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


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If 


"  There  is  an  inn — a  chef  d'crnrrc  in  its  way,  I  assure 
yon.  Yon  Jiad  bettor  take  this  fly,  Doctor  Lance — Miss 
Wood  looks  tit  to  die  of  fatigue." 

"My  poor  Hazel!  You  do  look  terribly  used  uj")," 
laughed  Paul,  "  while  Miss  Eve's  roses  are  still  nuAvilted. 
Adieu,  ladies  !  Doctor,  will  we  be  allowed  to  go  up  to  the 
hall  and  pay  our  respects  ?" 

^'  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  snarled  the  doctor,  whose 
temper  was  not  inii)roved  by  the  discomforts  of  traveling. 
**  Here,  yon  girls  I  pile  in,  and  let's  be  off." 

The  two  gentlemen,  left  behind,  took  olf  their  hats  to 
the  young  ladies  as  the  lly  drove  awny,  and  then  set  ofli 
for  tlieir  inn. 

"A  pretty  place,  this  English  village — is  it  not,  mad- 
emoiselle  ?  "  D'Arville  sairl,  s})eaking  to  Eve. 

^^  Oh,  it  is  charming  !  These  gardens  and  cottages,  and 
queer  old  houses  and  churches,  and  there — Avhat  place  is 
that  ?" 

"'  Blackmonks  Priory,"  said  Doctor  Lance,  just  glancing 
at  a  great  park  as  they  rattled  by.  ''  We  have  no  time  for 
stopping  to  stare  now.  You'll  see  enough  of  it  before  you 
leave  hero,  I'll  warrant  you." 

They  left  the  vilhige  behind,  and  drove  along  a  lovely 
country  road,  where  the  houses  were  few  and  far  between, 
and  Eve  began  to  look  out  lor  Hazel  wood  Hall. 

They  soon  reached  it  ;  two  great  gates  swung  back  to 
admit  them,  and  they  drove  through  the  amber  haze  of 
sunset  up  a  winding  avenue  to  a  great,  gloomy-looking 
old  house,  silent  and  lonely  as  a  tomb. 

"  What  a  dismal  old  barn  !  "  said  Hazel,  fretfully. 
*^  And  this  is  Hazelwood  Hall  !  I  wish  I  was  back  in  New 
York  !     I'm  sick  of  England  already  ! " 

A  servant  out  of  livery — a  solemn-looking  old  man — 
opened  the  door,  and  stared  aghast  at  the  party.  He  ad- 
mitted them,  however,  answering  Doctor  Lance's  sharp 
questions  as  he  did  so. 

"  Yes ;  nuistor  was  at  home,  but  ill,  and  confined  to  his 
room  ;  and  Miss  Forest,  she  was  in  London,  and  would  not 
bo  back  until  next  day.  He  would  take  the  doctor's  card, 
however,  and  see  if  he  could  be  received  ;  meantime,  would 
they  be  ])leMso(l  to  wait  here  ?" 

Eve  scarcely  knew  whether  to  laugh  or  cry,  as  he  ushered 


( 


)t 

Id 


HAZELWOOD  HALL. 


143 


them  into  a  dark,  and  grand,  and  gloomy  reception-room — 
it  was  all  so  different  from  what  she  had  anticipated. 

"  I  wish  I  was  back  in  \ew  York — I  do  I  "  Hazel  re- 
iterated, drearily.  *^1  shall  die  in  this  horrid  place — I 
know  I  shall  !  "' 

The  sober  old  servant  was  back  directly.  '*  ^faster 
would  receive  the  gentleman  in  his  room,  and  one  of  the 
chambermaids,  in  the  absence  of  Miss  Forest,  would  attend 
to  the  young  ladies." 

The  chambermaid,  a  very  spruce  young  lady,  entered 
while  he  was  speaking,  and  respectfully  proffered  to  lead 
them  to  their  rooms,  which  were  ready  and  waiting. 

Eve  cast  a  half-laughing,  half  dismayed,  wholly-bewitch- 
ing glance  back  at  D'Arville,  and  tripped  from  the  room, 
up  a  grand  staircase,  slippery  as  glass,  down  a  long  hall, 
and  into  a  chamber  in  the  same  large,  somber  and  grand 
style  as  the  rest  of  the  house.  Hazel's  was  adjoining  ;  but 
Hazel  declared  nothing  earthly  would  induce  her  to  pass 
the  night  alone  in  such  a  place,  and  despatclied  the  girl  for 
refreshments,  with  information  that  she  and  her  cousin 
would  be  roommates. 

*'  And  now  I'm  going  to  bed,"  said  Hazel,  after  the  tea 
and  toast  had  vanished;  ''for  I  feel  as  though  I  could, 
sleep  a  week  !     Will  you  come  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Eve,  taking  up  her  hat  ;  ''  I  am  going  out  to 
have  a  look  at  the  grounds.  It  is  a  great  deal  too  early  for 
bed.     I  wonder  if  I  can  find  my  way  out  ?  " 

She  did  find  her  way  out,  somehow,  and  wandered  down 
to  the  great  gates,  standing  wide  open.  To  her  surprise, 
she  found  no  less  a  personage  than  Senor  Mendez  there 
before  her,  talking  to  the  porter,  and  smoking  a  cigar. 

''You  here?"   Eve  cried,  in  her  astonishment.      "I 
tliought  you  had  gone  to  the  inn." 

"  So  1  did ;  but  I  rode  up  here  afterward  ;  there  is  my 
horse  yonder.     i[ow  do  you  like  your  new  home  ?  " 

Eve  did  not  immedintely  reply.  A  carriage  was  pass- 
ing— a  very  grand  affair  -drawn  by  two  superb  grays  in 
silver  harness,  and  from  the  window  a  face  was  looking  out 
at  them,  as  it  roiled  slowdy  by. 

A  lady's  face,  handsome  and  haughty,  glancing  out  for 
an  instant,  and  then  disappearing. 

Eve  turned  to  reply  to  the  gentleman's  question,  buJi 
stopped  again. 


h\.^ 


M' 


iii! 


fii^' 


144 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


AVhat  ailed  Senor  Meiidez  ?  Jlis  face  had  turned  as 
white  as  a  dead  man's,  and  his  eyes  were  strained,  as  if 
tliey  would  start  from  his  head,  after  the  carriage,  vanisli- 
ing  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

"  Monsieur  !"  Eve  cried  out,  in  alarm,  '*you  are  ill  !  " 

Her  voice  aroused  him.  He  turned  to  her,  but,  in  spite 
of  all  his  efforts,  it  was  nearly  a  minute  before  he  could 
speak. 

"  It  is  nothing — a  heavy  spasm — quite  gone  now.  ]\Iy 
friend  "  (to  the  gate-keeper)  ''  whose  carriage  is  that  ?" 

*'  Lady  Landsdowne's,  sir,"  the  man  said  ;  *'  and  that 
was  my  lady  herself  a-looking  out  of  the  window." 


CHAPTER  XVIL 


TWO    OLD    FIUEXDS. 


¥  ? 


Ii: 


Through  long  corridors,  wainscoted  rooms,  lofty  and 
large,  up  sweeping  staircases,  and  into  galleries  and  gloomy 
drawing-rooms,  where  the  furniture  was  black  with  age, 
and  grim  old  ancestors  and  ancestresses,  frowned  down 
from  oak  panels.  Eve  and  Hazel  went  the  morning  after 
their  arrival  in  Hazelwood  Hall.  An  old  butler,  as  antique 
and  gloomy  as  anything  he  showed  them,  was  their  cice- 
rone, and  looking  upon  two  young  ladies  in  that  house, 
where  young  ladies  had  never  been  before,  time  out  of 
mind,  very  much  in  the  light  of  interlopers,  he  vouchsafed 
them  as  little  information  as  possible  about  what  they  saw. 
Monsieur  D'Arville  was  closeted  with  the  invisible  master 
of  the  mansion,  and  had  suggested  the  idea  at  breakfast  to 
kill  time  until  he  should  be  released. 

"  A  horrid  old  barn  as  ever  I  saw  1  "  was  Hazel's  dis- 
pleased criticism,  looking  round  the  dim  old  saloon.  *^I 
wish  I  was  back  in  New  York  ;  the  Tombs  there  was  a 
palace  compared  to  it !  What  do  you  call  that  old  chap 
up  there  in  the  white,  woolly  wig,  and  all  those  ridiculous 
ruffles,  mister  ?  " 

*'  That  is  the  portrait  of  the  late  Judge  Hazelwood, 
Miss,"  answered  the  old  butler,  with  slow  dignity. 


ill  i 

11 11 

IP  3 


TWO  OLD  FRIENDS. 


145 


'5 
)f 


I 

a 

ip 
lus 

k 


"  And  that  other  sciirccrow  beside  him,  with  the  waisc 
of  her  dress  under  her  arms,  and  sleeves  like  two  bolsters — 
who  is  she  ?     Mrs.  Judge  llazelwood,  1  suppose  ?" 

''  It  is,  miss." 

"  Did  you  eve;  see  such  looking  shapes.  Eve  ?  I  say, 
thougli,  are  we  near  done  sight-seeing  ?  1'hey  ought  to 
have  liorse-cars  or  sometlnng  to  run  through  this  house — 
I'm  just  dragged  otf  my  feet  traveling  I  The  Kamhle  in 
Central  Park  was  phiin  sailing  (;ompared  to  it !  " 

'*  Hazel,  don't  be  so  innocent."  said  Eve,  barely  able  to 
keep  from  laugliing  at  the  shocked  and  scandalized  face  of 
the  ancient  servitor  ;  "it's  a  dear  ronuuitic  old  place,  and 
I'm  in  love  with  it  already.*' 

''Yes  ;  you  always  had  outlandish  tastes,  I  know,"  said 
Hazel,  discontentedly  ;  **  but  when  we're  both  laid  uj)  with 
rheumatism,  and  fever  and  ague,  and  consumption,  and 
lots  of  other  harms  that  we'll  be  sure  to  catch  in  this  damp, 
musty  vault,  you'll  sing  a  dilTerent  tune,  I  dare  say.  Oh, 
I  wish  I  was  back  in  New  York  !  even  the  pen. siunnat  was 
a  king  o  this  !  Here  we  are  in  the  blessed  sunshine  again, 
£>icu  vierci !  " 

They  had  reached  the  grand  entrance  hall,  M'here  the 
old  butler  bowed  and  left  them,  shocked  out  of  a  year's 
growth. 

**  I  woiuler  when  we  are  to  be  admitted  to  the  throne  of 
the  Grand  ]\Iogul,  Hazel,"  laughed  Eve;  'Mie  is  as  mys- 
terious at  Mokanna  himself  !  " 

'•'  "Who  was  Mokanna  ?  I  don't  care  about  the  Grand 
Mogul ;  but  1  do  wish  Paul  would  come  up  to-day  !  Do 
you    suppose  he  will  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  and  with  due  reverence  to  you — don't 
care." 

^'  Oh,  of  course  not  I  but  if  Senor  ^Mendez  was  in  question, 
perhaps  you  might.  Paul  says,  the  way  you  flirted  with 
tluit  gay  and  festive  old  scamp  on  shipboard  was  shame- 
ful ! " 

Eve's  eyes  began  to  flash. 

'•  Hazel  !  did  Paul  Schaffer  dare  to  say  that  ?" 
'*  Dare  !  Oh,  you  have  not  done  acting  the  role  of  La 
Princesse  yet,  1  see!  Tell  your  old  beau.  Eve,  to  dye 
his  hair  before  he  proposes  ;  it's  getting  frosty,  rather  ! 
There,  you  needn't  fire  up  now  ;  Fm  not  going  to  fight 
this  morning,  because  you're  the  only  living  Christian  I've 


146 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I- 


got  to  talk  to,  and  bad  company  is  better  than  none  !  I 
wish  Monsieur  D'Arville  would  come  back,  if  the  Grand 
Mogul  hasn't  had  him  beheaded." 

"  Qiiand  un  parh  dii — be  careful  what  you  say,  madem- 
oiselle I  "said  D'  Arville  himself,  sauntering  in.  "  I  come 
from  the  Grand  Mogul  with  his  Serenity's  orders  for  you 
two  young  ladies  to  appear  at  once  before  him  !  I  am  to 
lead  you  to  the  presence-chatuber  ;  so  coine." 

His  dark  eyes  were  laughing  while  he  spoke,  though 
his  face  was  serious,  and  he  offered  an  arm  to  each,  to  lead 
them  forth. 

"Is  it  going  to  be  very  terrible  ?  "  Eve  asked,  as  they 
went  up-stairs. 

"Very.  Summon  all  your  moral  courage,  and  I  will 
wait  at  the  door.  If  you  faint,  give  me  notice  beforehand, 
and  I  will  .iy  to  your  aid." 

"Well,  I'm  pretty  curious,"  said  Hazel,  "but  I  ain't 
scared  to  speak  of.  Is  this  the  place  ?  Wait  for  us  outside, 
monsieur." 

Monsieur  bowed  and  rapped.  The  door  was  opened  at 
once  by  a  natty  little  valet — French,  you  could  see  at  a 
glance.  Monsieur  D'ArviHe  retreated,  the  young  ladies 
advanced,  the  valet  closed  the  door  and  vanished,  and 
they  were  in  the  presence  of  the  Grand  Mogul  I 

Stretclied  at  full  length  on  a  lounge,  and  half  buried  in  its 
downy  pillows,  lay  an  immensely-stout  gentleman,  smoking 
a  meerschaum  pipe,  lie  wore  a  dressing-gown,  and  both 
his  feet  were  swathed  in  rolls  of  flannel — Mr.  Ilazelwood 
was  suffering  from  the  gout.  A  dumb-waiter,  with  tlie 
remnants  of  an  epicurean  breakfast  littered  over  it,  stood 
near  him  ;  and  lying  there,  he  looked  the  very  picture  of 
seuouous,  selfish,  indolent  comfort.  His  room  wms  the 
most  elegant  in  the  house  ;  its  pule-green  walls  lined  with 
exquisite  pictures.  Nothing  remained  of  the  Arthur 
Ilazelwood  of  former  days,  but  his  selfishness,  his  itido- 
lence,  and  a  rcmiuint  of  his  artist  tastes.  He  turned  his 
eyes  listlessly  toward  them,  and  held  out  one  languid 
hand. 

"Ah  !  you've  come,  liave  you  ?  How  d'ye  do  ?  Happy 
to  see  you  both  I     Find  seats  and  sit  down." 

Tlie  young  ladies  did  so.  Eve's  sense  of  the  ludicrous  was 
too  strong  to  permit  her  to  look  at  Hazel,  lest  she  should 
laugh  outright  at  this  enthusiastic  greeting,  but  she  felt 


lb 


TWO  OLD  FRIENDS. 


147 


that  Hazel's  face  was  a  picture  to  see,  as  she  stared  blankly 
at  the  pulpy  figure  prostrate  before  her. 

"All  I"  said  Mr.  Ifazelwood,  drawling  out  his  words, 
and  cmoking  away,  "  which  of  you  is  little  Hazel  ?  You,  I 
presume  ?  *' 

*'  No,  sir,"  said  Eve,  to  whom  this  was  adresscd,  **  this 
is  Hazel — I  am  Eve." 

^' Ah  I  and  a  very  pretty  Eve  you  are — very  pretty,  in- 
deed !     The  otiier  was  stolen,  wasn't  she  ?  '' 

"  Do  you  mean  my  twin-sister,  sir  ?  "'  said  Eve.  to  whom 
some  part  of  her  own  story  was  familiar.  '*  Yes  ;  1  be- 
lieve she    was   stolen    when  an    infant,   and   never  found 


since." 
''Ah 


very  droll — very.  And  you  are  little  Hazel,  eh  ? 
Not  very  large  yet,   either — and  plump  as  a   partridge." 

*' There's  a  pair  of  us,  sir!"  resorted  Hazel,  pertly, 
nettled  at  this  last  insinuation,  which  was  touching  her 
feelings  on  a  very  tender  point. 

'^  Eh  ? "  inquired  ]\Ir.  Ifazelwood,  feebly  staring; 
"  well,  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  yourselves  here,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  Una  will  be  back  by  and  by,  and  tiien  it 
will  be  pleasanter  for  you.    Jerome  1  " 

The  dapper  valet  appeared  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had 
risen  from  the  earth,  and  stood  making  genuilections  be- 
fore the  lord  of  Hazelwood  Hall. 

"  Show  these  young  ladies  out  and  fetch  me  some  brandy 
and  water,  hot.     Ah  !  good  morning  !  " 

Monsieur  Jerome,  smiling  blandly,  turned  them  both 
out  of  doors,  and  the  interview  was  at  an  end.  D'Arville, 
looking  out  of  a  window  at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall,  ad- 
vanced to  meet  them. 

"  Vfell,'^  he  in([uired,  ^'  and  how  do  you  like  the  Graiul 
Mogul,  mesdemoiselles  ?" 

"Don't  ask  me — don't!"  cried  Hazel,  her  lips  com- 
pressed, her  eyes  Hashing.  ^'  I  feel  as  though  I  should 
burst  !  Is  it  Bluebeard  ?  Is  it  Henry  the  Eighth  ?  Wiiat 
sort  of  monster  is  it  shut  up  there  ?  Oh  !  if  I  was  only 
back  in  New  York,  I  wish  them  joy  of  their  eyesigiit  that 
would  catch  me  here  again  !  " 

Eve  went  off  into  an  irrepressible  tit  of  laughtor  at  the 
recollections  of  the  scene,  and  D'Arville's  dark  face 
lighted  up  with  a  smile. 

**  It  won't  do  to  live  in  Rome  and  light  with  the  Pope, 


i!    U' 


148 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


■I 


an  old  proverb  says.  You  must  keep  a  civil  tongue  in 
your  licad,  Miss  Hazel.  Do  you  know  there  lias  been  an 
arrival  within  the  last  ten  minutes  ?" 

''  No  !— who  ?— not  Paul— I  moan  Mr.  Schaffer  ?" 

'^No;  a  lady.  She  drove  up  in  a  fly,  and  passed 
tlirough  here  in  a  traveling  dress.  It  is  Miss  Forest,  I 
presume."" 

'"  Oh,  has  she  come,  then  !  "  exclaimed  Hazel,  a  little 
disappointed.  *'  What  does  she  look  like  ? — another  Levia- 
than ?  " 

"  Not  at  all  ?  A  pale  little  woman,  pretty  and  ladylike. 
I  only  saw  her  for  an  instant,  but " 

JFe  stopped  short  at  a  sudden  motion  from  Eve.  "A 
pale  little  woman,  pretty  and  ladylike"  had  entered  the 
Jial).  while  he  was  speaking  ;  her  bonnet  and  shawl  doffed 
already,  her  flaxen  hair  combed  very  smoothly  away  from 
her  fair,  colorless  face;  her  light  blue  eyes,  as  quiet  and 
cloudless  as  of  yore,  her  steps  as  noiseless,  her  looks  almost 
as  young.  Old  time,  furrowing  wrinkles,  and  thinning 
locks,  and  planting  crow's  feet,  had  been  merciful  to  her. 
The  white  skin  was  unfurrowed,  the  flaxen  hair  as  thick, 
tlie  form  as  light  and  slender  as  fifteen  years  before,  and 
Una  Forest  at  thirty  wasa  very  prepossessing  little  person, 
indeed.  She  floated  forward  now,  in  a  dress  of  gray  silk 
prettily  made  and  trimmed,  a  smile  on  her  pale,  thin  lips, 
and  a  hand  extended  to   eacli  of  the  girls. 

''  At  last  I "  she  said,  in  the  soft,  sweet  voice  of  old, 
toucliing  first  tlie  cheek  of  Eve,  then  of  Hazel,  ''  welcome 
to  England  and  to  Htizelwood  Hall.'' 

"Thank  you,"  I'^ve  said,  a  little  timidly,  while  Hazel 
stared  at  her  in  silence.  ^'  You  are  Miss  Forest,  of 
course." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  ;  and  you  are  the  little  baby  Evangeline, 
I  left  in  New  York  over  fifteen  years  ago :  grown  out  of 
all  knowledge.  And  tliis  is  the  three-year  old  Hazel,  who 
used  to  torment  me  so,  looking  the  younger  of  the  two. 
And  this  gentleman  ?  " — 

Slie  paused,  looking  composedly  at  D'Arville,  who  stood 
in  the  l)ackground.  He  ste[)ped  foi'ward,  on  hearing  liim- 
self  invited,  with  an  easy  bow — his  composure  as  match- 
less as  her  own. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Hazel  wood's  secretary,  madam.  ]\Ey  name 
is  D'Arville." 


^TS 


TWO  OLD  FRIEiNlDS. 


149 


Miss  Forest  bent  her  fnir  little  head  in  silent  greeting, 
and  turned  once  more  to  look  at  Eve. 

"How  very  tall  you  have  grown,  my  dear,  and  how 
much  older  than  your  age  you  look  !  Your  voyage  does 
not  seem  to  have  afTected  eitlier  of  you  much  ;  were  you 
sick?" 

•'  Hazel  was  ;  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  escape." 

"  Ah,  you  may  well  call  it  good  fortune  !  I  know  what 
sea-sickness  is  !     Was  the  voyage  pleasant  ?" 

''  Very  !  We  had  a  number  of  friends  on  board — all 
the  way  with  us,  in  fact — and  tJie  time  went  like  magic." 

''Speak  for  yourself,"  cut  in  Miss  Hazel.  "I  dare  say 
it  went  like  magic  for  you  and  your  old  Spanish  beau, 
but  I  could  tell  a  different  story — pent  up  in  a  stew-tub 
of  a  stateroom.  There  wasn't  an  hour  froiii  the  time  we 
started  till  we  landed  I  didn't  wish  might  be  our  last,  if 
only  for  s^.ite  to  see  the  way  you  acted  ;  and  I  used  to 
pray  fervently  the  steamer  might  run  into  a  rock  or  a  mer- 
maid, or  something,  and  pitch  head  first  to  Davy  Jones, 
and  so  end  it  all  !  " 

Miss  Forest's  light  blue  eye  and  smiling  face  were  turned 
on  the  spirited  speaker  of  this  reckless  avowal,  oUulying 
her  as  she  had  been  studying  Eve. 

''You  have  not  changed,  I  see,  my  dear  ;  the  Hazel  of 
three  years  lives  yet  in  the  Hazel  of  eighleen.  And  now, 
where  is  Doctor  Lance  ?     Is  he  with  Mr.  Hazelwood  ?" 

"  He  has  gone  back,"  said  Eve.  "  He  ivent  by  the  cx- 
])ress  last  night  to  London,  and  starts  in  the  next  steamer 
ior  New  York." 

"  A  Hying  visit  I  I  should  like  to  have  seen  him.  Have 
you  been  through  the  house  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Hazel,,  "we've  been  through  it,  and, 
except  the  prison  up  in  Sing  Sing,  that  they  took  me  to 
see  once,  I  never  went  through  a  more  ghostly  place  !  Isn't 
it  full  of  fijliosts  ?  " 

Miss  Forest's  eyes  and  smile  were  on  Hazel  ag;iin.  Eve 
looked  nearly  as  shocked  as  the  old  butler  had  done,  and 
D'Arville  intensely  amused. 

"  1  really  don't  know.     T  never  saw  any." 

'•  Well,  it  must  be  full  ^  .  rats  anyhow,  and  they're  as 
bad,  if  not  worse,  'i'hey'd  no  more  keep  such  an  old  rat- 
trap  as  this  standing  in  New  York  than —  Oh,  Eve  !  liere 
is  Paul  and  Senor  Mendez  !     1  declare  if  they're  not." 


^¥ 


1;     •! 


|i! 


Ill' 


h»a  i 


■i  . 


'!' 


1 1' 


I' 


150 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


Hazel  sped  off  down-stairs  in  an  ecstasy.  Eve  looked  out 
of  the  window,  and  saw  the  two  gentlemen  in  question 
just  going  up  the  stone  steps  leading  to  the  front  door. 

"  Friends  of  yours  ?  ''  Miss  Forest  inquired,  loooking  in 
calm  surprise  on  Eve.  ''I  did  not  know  you  had  any  in 
tlie  vilL'igc." 

"  We  knew  them  in  Canada,"  Eve  answered,  coloring 
suddenly,  and  the  two  looking  at  her  wondered  inwardly 
which  of  tlicm  the  blush  was  for.  "  I  suppose  I  must  go 
down." 

'"  Of  course,  and  I  must  go  and  see  about  my  houseliold 
affairs.  I  came  here  directly  on  arriving.  Farewell — 
luncheon-hour  is  at  two  ;  at  six  we  dine." 

She  bowed  in  her  easy,  gaceful  way  and  left  them.  Eve, 
her  face  still  hot,  spoke  to  D'Arville  without  looking  at 
him. 

"  Are  you  coming  down,  monsieur  ?  They  will  want  to 
see  you." 

-'  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  he  said,  meaningly. 

^'  Of  course.     Come  !  " 

She  led  the  way  down-stairs,  without  waiting,  and 
D'Arville  followed  her.  In  the  grand  and  gloomy  draw- 
ing-room they  found  Hazel  chatting  away  like  a  magpie  to 
the  gentlemen.  She  was  painting  their  portraits  in  vivid 
colors,  and  her  auditors  wore  laugliing  faces,  but  both 
turned  eagerly  to  the  door  when  Eve  entered.  She  gave 
her  hand  frankly  and  cordially  to  Senor  Mendez,  but  she 
just  touched  Mr.  Schaffer's  extended  digit,  as  if  it  had 
been  red-hot,  and  dropped  it  again. 

*'  You  see  we  have  found  our  way  to  Ilazelwood  Hall," 
Schaffer  said.  "  A  fine  old  place,  but  nothing  to  Black 
Monk's  Priory.  Senor  Mendez  and  I  were  over  there  this 
morning. " 

"That's  great  praise,  to  say  it's  nicer  than  this,"  said 
Hazel,  contemptuously.  "  It's  anotlier  old  vault,  I  sup- 
pose. Oil,  give  me  a  brownstone  front  on  Fifth  avenue, 
aiul  you  have  my  idea  of  heaven  on  earth  at  once." 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  said  ^Ir.  Schaffer,  in  a  voice  au- 
dible o!)ly  to  her,  "  when  you  and  I  go  back  to  New  York 
together.  You  ought  to  see  it.  Miss  Hazelwood,"  raising 
his  tone.  Hazel  might  not  fancy  it,  but  I  am  sure  you 
would." 

"  She  saw  Lady  Landsdowne  last  night,  and  fancied  her 


1 

I 


TWO  OLD  FRIENDS. 


151 


III 


excessively.      Did  you    not,    Miss    Eve  V*    asked    Senor 
Mendez. 

''  I  told  you  I  thought  her  a  most  beautiful  woman, 
and,"  rather  miscliievously,  '^I  think  she  aftected  your- 
self, senor,  even  more  than  I,  for  you  turned  as  white  as 
that  marble  bust  up  there  at  siglit  of  her  !  " 

"  Was  it  at  sight  of  her,"  said  Senor  Mendez,  coolly. 
**  I  thought  I  told  you  it  was  a  spasm." 

*'  Oh,  yes,  you  told  me  that,  of  course  ;  but  I  know  you 
watched  the  carriage  out  of  sight,  and  inquired  very  par- 
ticularly about  her  from  the  lodge-keeper.  Is  the  Priory 
shown  to  visitors  ?  " 

"Not  Avhen  the  family  are  at  home,  as  now,"  said  ^Fr. 
Schaffer.  "\  was  disappointed  in  my  liopes  of  going 
through  it  to-day,  and  1  hope  the  family  may  make  their 
exodus  soon  for  my  benelit.  We  saw  the  grounds,  though, 
and  the  exterior  of  the  mansion,  and  very  magnificent 
both  are.  What  is  more,  we  saw  Lord  Landsdowne, 
though  I  should  have  preferred  seeing  his  lady." 

**  And  is  he  as  lovely  to  look  at  as  she  seems  to  be  ?" 
inquired  Hazel. 

'^  Xo,  he  is  not  what  you  girls  would  call  handsome  ;  he 
is  tall  and  stately,  gentlemanly,  and  rather  distinguished- 
looking,  grave  and  middle-aged." 

''  Grave  !  "  said  the  Cuban.  "  I  should  say  so  I  His 
face  is  that  of  a  man  whose  life  has  been  a  great  mistake." 

''  Do  you  judge  from  faces  ?  "  asked  D'Arville,  speaking 
for  the  first  time.  "  If  so,  I  should  like  you  to  sec  the 
mistress  of  this  establishment,  and  read  me  her  character. 
I  have  been  puzzliug  over  it  ever  since  I  saw  her." 

"  Is  she  a  study,  then  ?  " 

*' Is  she  pretty?  tliat's  the  question?"  interrupted 
Paul  Schatfer.  **  A  pretty  woman  never  can  be  very  dis- 
agreeable." 

Senor  Mendez  looked  at  the  last  speaker,  and  so  queer 
a  smile,  so  bitter,  so  cynical  and  so  scornful  came  over  liis 
face,  that  a  new  light  dawned  on  Eve's  mind.  It  broke 
on  D^Arville's,  too,  and  he  spoke  : 

*'  Senor  AFendez  has  lost  faith  in  the  sex,  but  it  is  not 
fair  to  judge  all  by  one.  Miss  Forest  is  no  common 
woman,  and  not  to  bo  judged  by  common  rules.  She  is 
pretty,  too,  but  it  is  a  strange  type  of  prettiness — un- 
lamiliar  to  me." 


'     1  \i 


r 


152 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


■I '' 


i   £i 


t'l 


m 


"  Tlie  more  charming,  then,  I  should  think,"  said  Paul 
Schaffer.  "  Prenez  garde  de  tomher,  Monsieur  D'Ar- 
ville!" 

Monsieur  D'Arville's  lips  curled  at  the  insinuation,  and 
just  then  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door.  D'Arville  opened 
it,  supposing  it  to  be  a  servant,  and  was  taken  rather  aback 
to  find  himself  confronted  by  the  fair,  still  face  and  soft 
gray  dress  of  Miss  Forest  herself.  He  stepped  back,  liold- 
ing  the  door  open  for  lier  to  enter,  but  she  declined. 

"  Do  not  let  me  disturb  you!  Mr.  llazelwood  desired 
me  to  tell  you  to  go  to  him  directly  after  luncheon,  and 
luncheon  waits  now." 

She  was  gone  again.  D'Arville  closed  the  door  and 
looked  at  the  rest. 

"Is  that  the  Marble  Bride  turned  Quakeress  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Schaffer.  "  Iler  voice  is  like  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
though  I  can't  say  I  ever  heard  that  melody." 

"  I  take  it  upon  myself  to  say  that  is  Miss  forest,"  said 
Senor  jMendez. 

'*  And  something  out  of  the  common — do  you  not  think 
so  ?  "  inquired  D'Arville. 

"  Decidedly,  or  slie  would  have  invited  us  to  luncheon," 
said  the  Creole  gentleman,  rising;  "but  as  she  has  not, 
we  make  our  exit.  JNliss  Eve,  Miss  Hazel,  you  should  go 
down  and  see  Monkswood  ;  it  is  worth  the  journey,  I  as- 
sure you." 

"  \Ve  will,"  said  Eve,  "and  perhaps  this  afternoon. 
Eh,  Hazel?" 

"  All  right,"  said  Hazel.  "  I  was  bound  to  go  any  way  ; 
and,  what's  more,  1  am  going  to  call  at  the  Priory,  too. 
Will  you  gentlemen  chaperone  us — we  might  go  astray  in 
this  barbarous  land." 

The  gentlemen  asseverated  that  they  would  only  be  too 
luippy  and  blessed  to  do  so,  und  took  their  departure,  and 
tlie  trio  sought  the  dining-room.  Miss  Forest  was  waiting 
there,  before  a  table  glittering  with  silver  and  cut-glass, 
aiul  took  her  place  at  the  liead  at  once. 

"  I  have  grown  so  accustomed  to  being  alone  on  these 
occasions,"  slie  said,  smilingly,  "  that  I  fear  I  have  half 
forgotten  liow  to  preside.  Mr.  Hazel  wood  so  rarely  loaves 
liis  room,  and  we  never  see  company,  so  I  live  like  a  female 
Robinson  Crusoe.  Let  me  help  you  to  some  of  this  pigeon- 
pie,  Mr.  D'Arville." 


! 

i 

1 


>i 


TWO  OLD  FRIENDS. 


153 


j> 


se 
ilf 
es 
,le 
11- 


"  You  are  worse  off  than  Robinson  Crusoe  was,"  put  in 
pert  Hazel,  *' for  he  had  a  man — Friday." 

Miss  Forest  only  noticed  this  speech  by  a  cold  staro,  and 
went  on  carving  the  pie.  It  was  not  a  very  comfortable 
meal ;  for  the  solemn  old  butler  hovered  in  the  background, 
glaring  upon  them  all  in  awful  silence,  and  Miss  Forest  was 
so  very  ceremonious  and  stately,  that  it  completely  took 
away  even  Hazel's  anpetite. 

*'I  declare.  Eve,  I'm  starving  !  "  she  burst  out,  when  it 
was  safely  ever  at  last,  and  they  were  alone,  D'Arville 
having  gone  to  Mr.  Hazelwood's  apartments.  "  I'll  be 
skin  and  bone  shortly,  if  this  state  of  things  continues.  I 
hate  that  Una  Forest  !     There  I  " 

^aiazel,  hush  I" 

^'  I  won't  hush  ;  and  you  don't  like  her  yourself,  only 
you're  too  great  a  hypocrite  to  say  so.  I  wonder  if  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  an  oyster-saloon  in  Monkswood  ?  " 

"  Oyster-saloon  I — rubbish  !  Do  you  think  you  are  back 
in  Xew  York  ?  " 

"  Oil,  don't  I  wish  I  only  was  !     But  there   must  be  a 


cookshop,  or   a   baker's   establishment,  or 


something   or 
I'm  going  to 


Wait  till  I  get 


other  there,  to  keep  people  from  starving, 
see,  anyway.     Will  you  come  ?" 

*'  Of  course — anything  for  a  quiet  life, 
my  hat." 

Arm  in  arm  the  two  girls  strolled  down  the  avenue  to 
tlie  gates,  and  passed  out  into  the  highroad.  Pretty  green 
lanes  branched  otf  from  this  road  right  and  left ;  and, 
passing  one.  Eve  stopped  suddenly,  holding  Hazel  back. 
The  young  lady,  following  her  cousin's  glance,  saw  nothing 
more  startling  tlian  a  group  of  three  persons  standing 
under  the  shaelow  of  some  ash-trees,  talking — one,  a  man  ; 
the  other  two,  fem;iles.  The  man  had  his  back  toward 
them,  but  his  height  and  form  were  too  familiar  to  be 
mistaken.  The  woman  lU'arost  him  was  old,  bent,  a!id 
faced  them  ;  but  the  hood  of  iier  crimson  cloak  partly  con- 
cealed her  face.  The  tliird  leanedjigainst  a  tree,  shadowed 
by  its  long  arms,  so  that  only  her  floating  skirts  and  gipsy 
hat  were  visible. 

"What  is  Paul  SchalTcr  up  to  now?"  asked  Eve. 
*^  And,  Hazel,  isn't  that  the  old  fortune-teller  we  saw  at 
Madam  Schaffer's  the  night  of  i\\Q.fctc'r' 

"  Nonsense  !     How  could  she  get  to  England  ?    It  looks 


w 


! 


iW 


r, 


I' 


II 


Ml' 


w: 


m 


J  i 


ill 


If 


.1 

I!'    I;! 


:i(l 


154 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


like  her,  tlioiigli,  don't  it  ?  Tlmt's  Paul  for  certain  ;  and 
who  Clin  the  tliird  one  be  ?     I  think  it's  a  young  girl." 

*' I  am  certain  that  is  the  same  old  woman.  There! 
she  sees  us,  and  is  gone  ! " 

The  old  woman  had  caught  sight  of  them,  and  she  and 
her  female  companion  disappeared  among  the  trees.  The 
man  turned  round  aiul  advanced.  Paul  Schaffer  it  cer- 
tainly was,  and  as  much  at  his  ease  as  ever. 

*'  What  1  "  was  his  greeting.  '*  You,  too,  here  !  Well, 
this  is  an  unexpected  pleiisuro  !" 

Hazel  looked  at  him  Avith  jealous  eyes. 

^'  Is  it  a  pleasure,  sir  ?  Who  were  those  two  women  you 
had  with  you  tliere  ?  " 

*•'  Oh,  you  saw  them,  did  you  ?  Gipsies,  of  course  ; 
didn't  you  sec  their  red  cloaks  ?  There's  an  encampment 
of  them  in  tlie  woods,  and  I  was  having  my  fortune  told." 

*•'  Eve  says  it's  the  old  woman  we  saw  at  Madam  Schaf- 
ier's  fete — the  fortune-teller,  you  know." 

]\[r.  Schalfer  burst  into  a  laugh. 

'^  I  beg  your  pardon!"  he  said  to  Eve;  '^  but  that  is 
rather  too  droll  a  notion  !  She  is  quite  as  old  and  quite  as 
ugly,  I  agree  ;  but  all  the  old  beldames  look  alike." 

"Were  they  both  old  women,  Paul?"  Hazel  asked, 
taking  his  arm,  and  quite  reassured. 

**  Of  course!  Come,  Senor  ^Mendcz  is  waiting  some- 
where, and  we  are  going  to  take  you  both  to  see  Black 
Monks.  Oh,  here  he  comes  with  the  fly  ;  and  now,  my 
dear  Hazel,  you  will  see  something  that  will  eclipse  the 
whole  Fifth  avenue,  with  Madison  square  thrown  in  ! 
Tliere  is  not  a  finer  place  in  England,  they  tell  me,  than 
Black  Monk's  Priory." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

eve's  second  proposal. 

*' You  had  better  not  go — it  will  certainly  rain." 
^' Kain  !     Oh,   nonsense,   Miss  Forest,    there   is   not  a 
cloud   in  the  sky.     It  is  as  clear  and  blue  as — as  your 
eyes." 

Miss  Forest  smiled  slightly,  and  bowed  her  acknowledg- 
ment to  the  speaker,  Mr.  Paul  Schaffer. 


EVE'S   SECOND  PROPOSAL. 


155 


IK 


g- 


Thoy  were  standing  together  in  the  open  hall  door,  with 
the  August  sunshine  glowing  upon  them,  and  Avutcliing 
the  scene  on  the  lawn.  Two  young  latlies  inriding-hnbits 
were  being  assisted  into  their  saddles  by  two  gentlemen, 
whose  horses  were  held  by  a  groom.  Eve  and  Hazel,  of 
course  ;  the  former  waited  on  by  Senor  Mendez,  the  latter 
by  D'Arville. 

Mr.  Schaffer's  own  horse  stood  near,  too,  but  he  seemed 
in  no  hurry,  as  he  stood  whipping  his  boot  and  talkini;-  to 
Una  Forest.  Somehow  t^ey  liad  managed  to  become  very 
good  friends,  these  two,  during  the  last  few  weeks. 

''Miss  Ilazelwood  is  looking  her  best,  this  afternoon," 
Mr.  Schaffer  said,  watching  her  under  his  eyebrows  ha  slio 
gathered  up  the  reins. 

'•  Eve  is  a  pretty  girl,"  Miss  Forest  answered,  quietly, 
*'and  pretty  girls  generally  look  their  prettiest  on  horse- 
back." 

"  So  Senor  Mendez  seems  to  think,  by  his  devotion.  Is 
the  Spanish  grandee  trying  to  cut  out  the  Canadian  school- 
master ?  " 

''  And  is  Mr.  Paul  Schaffer  jealous  ?" 

*'  Bah  !  You  know  1  am  done  for  !  Yonder  dumpy 
little  darling  is  my  fate,  of  course." 

''  Of  course  I  You  may  as  well  be  content  with  the 
goods  the  gods  have  furnished  you,  for  Eve's  cas(;  is 
settled." 

''You  think  so  ?" 

"  I  know  so.  I  am  a  woman,  Mr.  Schaffer,  and  she 
loves  Monsieur  D'Arville." 

"  Are  you  telling  me  that  by  way  of  news.  Miss  Forest  ? 
I  have  known  it  these  two  months,  and  what's  more,  she 
is  not  the  only  lady  who  worships  at  the  same  shrine." 

"  You  don't  mean  Hazel  ?  " 

Mr.  Schaffer  laughed  aiul  pulled  his  mustache. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  don't  mean  Hazel.  I  flatter  myself  that 
small  person  has  no  idol  but  your  humble  servant.  No, 
Miss  Forest,  I  don't  mean  Hazel  AVood — do  you  under- 
stand ?  " 

Their  eyes  met.  Yes  ;  she  understood,  and  turned 
away. 

Mr.  Schaffer  bent  his  head  and  lowered  his  voice  : 

*'  This  time  comes  to  all  of  us  sooner  or  later,  they  say  ; 
and  I  believe  it ;  and,  like  measles  and  whooping-cough, 


U' 


i 
Ml 


Iiii> 


11 

m 


h    :l 

4  1. 


156 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I    .'iSI 


tlie  later  in  life  we  take  it  the  more  severe  it  is  apt  to  bo. 
Miss  Forest,  you  and  1  understand  each  other,  I  think." 

"  Mr.  Sehaffer,  you  had  better  go  and  ride.  They  are 
waiting  for  you.'' 

*'  Let  them  wait  !  Miss  Forest,  will  you  be  my  friend, 
as  I  am  willing  to  be  yours  ?" 

"  I  don't  understand  vou,  Mr.  Schaffer  I" 

*'  Oh,  yes,  you  do  !  Clarence  D'Arville  is  a  handsome 
fellow,  I  know,  though  I  am  not  a  won)an,  and  he  loves 
Eve  Hazel  wood  ;  but  for  all  that  he  will  never  marry 
her!" 

"You  are  raving  !  If  she  cares  for  him,  what  is  to 
prevent  it  ?  " 

''  The  fates  and  Paul  Schaffer  !  Of  course  you  know 
my  secret,  as  I  do  yours  !  " 

"  Long  ago  ;  antl  so  does  D'Arville." 

"  And  so  does  she,  and  my  wife  she  will  be  in  spite  of 
her  teeth  ! " 

"  IIow  ?  Are  you  going  to  carry  her  off  to  some  Cana- 
dian castle,  in  the  okl  knight-errant  style  ?  This  is  the 
year  of  grace  eighteen  hundred  and  sixty,  remember  !  " 

*'  Very  well ;  she  will  marry  me  for  all  that,  and  I  shall 
not  carry  her  off.  If  you  will  promise  to  aid  mo,  Miss 
Forest,  for  your  own  sake,  you  shall  know  my  plans.  I 
cannot  work  alone,  and  I  know  you  have  no  love  for  your 
cousin." 

"  ]\Iy  consin,"  !Miss  Forest  said,  with  a  strange  smile. 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  that,  too  ;  and  she  is  your  cousin. 
There,  they  are  off — for  the  present,  farewell.  This  eve- 
ning you  shall  know  all,  and  the  play  Avill  begin." 

"  Take  care  of  the  storm  !  "  Una  cried  after  him,  as  he 
cantered  down  the  avenue. 

But  a  careless  laugh  was  his  only  answer  as  he  joined 
Hazel  and  D'Arville,  who  rode  last.  Hazel  was  inclined 
to  pout. 

''Were  you  making  love  to  Miss  Forest,  i)ray,"  she 
demanded,  •"  that  you  stayed  so  long  ?" 

Una,  by  the  way,  was  always  Miss  Forest  to  the  girls; 
they  would  as  soon  have  dreamed  of  calling  Queen  Victoria 
by  her  Christian  name,  had  they  chanced  to  meet  her,  as 
the  stately  and  cold  little  Albino. 

"  No,  my  dear  I     She  was  merely  warning  me  about  the 


ath 


or. 


EVE'S  SECOND  PROPOSAL. 


157 


r 


in. 
e- 

le 

led 
led 

;lie 

Is; 

ria 

as 


*^  Why,  what  ails  tlie  wcatlier  ?  " 

'*  Nothing  that  J  can  see.  Miss  Forost,  thongli,  it 
seems,  has  had  private  information  from  the  chu'k  of  the 
weather  that  it  is  goinij  to  rain." 

*'' And  we  will  have  a  llumder-storm  before  long,"  said 
D'Arville,  whose  eyes  had  been  dreamily  fixed  on  the 
graceful  figure  of  the  lady  before  him  hitherto,  lifting 
them  now  to  the  sky.     •'  Look  at  that  cloud  I  " 

"  Oh,  it  will  blow  over  !  Don't  predict  evil  !  Sorrow's 
soon  enough  when  it  comes." 

"  I  wonder  what  Senor  ^lendez  is  saying  to  Eve,"  ex- 
claimed Hazel.  **IIow  devoted  he  looks,  and  how  he 
bends  down  to  catch  every  word  !  What  shines  these  old 
follows  do  take  to  girls,  now  and  then  ! " 

'' Senor  Mendez  is  not  old,"  said  Mr.  SehafTer,  blandly, 
glancing  sideways  at  D'Arville,  whose  brows  were  con- 
tracting. '*  lie  is  a  fine-looking  man,  and  in  the  ))rime 
of  life.  When  do  you  suppose  Miss  Eve  will  go  to  live  in 
her  castle  in  Spain,  Hazel  ?  " 

''Shortly,  I  should  think,  for  it  is  a  mutual  strike." 

''  Indeed  I  has  she  told  you  so  ?" 

'*0h,  la  !  no  I  Catch  Eve  talking  about  such  a  thing, 
but  I  know  the  symptoms,  you  see,"  said  Hazel,  gravely, 
"and — goodness  me  I  how  dark  it's  getting  !" 

"  We  are  in  for  a  wetting  !  Miss  Forest  was  right, 
after  all  !  "  said  D'Arville.     "^Listen  to  that !  " 

It  was  a  sharp  and  sudden  peal  of  thunder,  followed  by 
a  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  and  great  drops  of  rain.  The 
whole  face  of  the  sky  had  blackened  with  astonishing 
rapidity,  and  the  storm  was  upon  them  in  its  fury.  AVorst 
of  all  they  had  been  riding  fast,  and  had  left  the  village 
behind  them,  and  were  out  now  on  a  lonely  country  road, 
with  710  house  in  sight. 

Hazel  gave  a  little  screech  of  dismay. 

''  Good  gracious,  Paul  I  whatever  will  we  do  ?  It's  go- 
ing to  pour  down  straight,  and  I've  got  my   new  hat  on  !  " 

But  one  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  ;  but  it 
was  only  human  nature — a  girl's  first  idea  in  a  tempest  is 
about  her  hat. 

Before  Paul  could  offer  consolation,  there  was  aiiother 
deafening  thunder-clap,  another  sheet  of  flame,  a  rush  of 
rain,  another  wild  shriek  from  Hazel,  and  a  crv  from 
D'Arville. 


!    i. 


I  ■( 


158 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


The  horses  of  the  pair  before  them  had  taken  fright,  at 
least  the  gentleman's  had,  and  was  flying  off  lik.-*  mad  ; 
and  tlie  lady's,  startled  by  the  proceeding,  was  dashing  off 
at  full  speed  after  it.  It  was  quite  evident  Eve  hjul  lost 
all  management  of  her  steed,  only  a  half-tamed  thing  at 
best. 

''She  will  be  thrown  !  she  will  bo  killed  !"  shouted 
Paul  Schatfer,  excitedly,  "  and  ]\Iendez  cannot  help  her. 
Great  heavens  !  she  is  down  !  " 

It  was  true  ;  the  frightened  animal  had  thrown  her,  and 
was  away  like  the  wind.  D'Arville,  his  face  perfectly 
white  with  horror,  dashed  the  spurs  into  his  horse,  and  in 
five  seconds  after  had  vaulted  olf  and  lifted  the  prostrate 
form  in  his  arms,  with  a  passionate  cry  : 

"  Eve,  my  darling  !     My  darling,  are  you  killed  ?  " 

No  ;  or  if  she  was,  his  words  had  magic  j^ower  to  charm 
her  back  to  life,  for  the  dark  eyes  slowly  opened  and 
looked  up  in  his  face  with  her  whole  heart  in  their  depths. 
In  a  rapture  he  bent  over  her,  reading  it  all. 

"Thank  God!  Oh,  thank  God,  she  lives  still!  My 
darling,  are  you  hurt  ?" 

Her  face  was  perfectly  colorless,  and  there  was  blood 
upon  it,  but  she  forced  a  smile  and  made  an  effort  to  rise. 
But  he  held  her  fast,  though  the  other  two  were  riding 
up. 

"  Eve,  they  are  here — one  word  before  they  come.  You 
know  I  love  you  ! " 

Yes,  she  knew  it.  One  little  hand  still  in  his,  one  other 
glance  from  the  dark  eyes,  and  he  was  a  hajipy  man.  The 
other  two  were  beside  them,  with  faces  of  consternation, 
and  the  rain  was  coming  down  in  torrents. 

"  Oh,  Eve  !  are  you  much  hurt  ?  "  was  HazeFs  shrill 
cry,  forgetting  all  about  her  \\q\v  hat. 

"Set  me  up,  please,  and  I  will  see,"  Eve  said,  faintly, 
smiling  up  in  D'Arville's  face.  "  My  head  struck  some- 
thing ;  but  I  think,  on  the  whole,  I  was  more  frightened 
than  hurt.'' 

She  stood  up  as  she  spoke,  very  pale,  and  with  the 
blood  flowing  from  the  cut  in  the  forehead,  but  with  no 
broken  bones. 

"Thank  Heaven,  it  is  so  well  !"  exclaimed  D'Arville; 
"  but,  Eve,  what  are  we  to  do  with  you  ?  It  won't  mend 
matters  to  stand  iu  this  dowupour." 


irill 

me- 
Ined 

I  the 
no 

lie; 
lend 


EVE'S  SECOND  PROPOSAL. 


159 


''  Eve  !  "  Paul  ScliafTer's  keen 
to  the  other,  iiiul  read  the   whole  story. 


glance  flashed 


from  one 
It  was  tlie  first 
time  Claude  D'xVrville  hud  ever  called  her  other  than  Miss 
Hazelwood. 

''Tliero  is  a  liouse  over  there,"  said  Hazel,  pointing. 
*' Let  Eve  take  your  horse,  Monsieur  D'Arville,  and  we 
will  be  under  cover  in  no  time." 

"  An  excellent  idea.  Miss  Eve,  let  me  assist  you  to 
mount." 

"But  you,"  Eve  hesitated,  '^you  will  be  exposed  to  all 
this  rain." 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence  about  me,  I  won't  melt.  Here, 
\\])  witli  you." 

Eve  mounted  his  horse,  and  bent  down  to  him  as  she 
gathered  up  the  reins  : 

'*  You  will  hurry  after  us,"  she  said,  anxiously,  and  his 
answer  was  the  bright  smile  that  so  vividly  lit  up  his  dark, 
handsome  face. 

"  Yes,  I  will  hurry.     Off  with  you  now." 

They  dashed  off,  leaving  him  to  follow  on  foot,  and  in 
five  minutes  were  at  the  house.  It  was  a  sort  of  wayside 
inn,  aiul  held  otlior  storm  bourd  wayfarers  it  seemed  ;  for 
a  gentleman  stood  in  the  op'.n  doorway,  watching  the 
storm.  He  drew  back  as  the  young  hidies,  with  uplifted 
skirts,  skimmed  past  him  into  the  parlor,  and  Eve  thought 
of  Paul  Schaffer's  description  of  the  lord  of  Black  Monk's 
— "^  grave  and  middle  aged,  tall  and  stately,  gontlemaidy 
and  rather  distinguished-looking " — and  made  up  her 
mind  that  this  was  Lord  Landsdowno.  The  parlor  was 
tenanted,  too.  In  a  leathern  easy-cluiir  in  the  chimney- 
corner  a  lady  sat — a  lady  richly  dressed  in  silk  and  velvet, 
with  diamonds  flasliing  on  lier  white  hands,  whose  haughty 
and  handsome  face  Eve  had  seen  before.  It  was  Lady 
Landsdowne.  Eve  remembered  the  proud,  cold  face, 
framed  in  golden-brown  hair,  that  had  looked  from  the 
carriage  window  that  first  evening  in  Monkswood  village. 
She  was  dressed  in  walking  costume  now  ;  her  blue  velvet 
mantle  falling  off  her  sloping  shoulders,  the  dainty  bon- 
net, a  snow-fl.ake,  sprinkled  with  azure,  still  on  her  head. 
She  had  been  looking  into  the  fire,  her  brow  contracted  in 
an  impatient  frown  when  they  entered,  and  the  first  glance 
had  been  careless  and  supercilious  enough.  But  that 
glance  changed,  fixed,  grew  wild  and  amazed,  and  the 


r 


rii; 


1 60 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


hriglit  blue  eye  dilated  011  Eve  as  if  slie  had  been  a  ghost. 
There  had  been  a  stifled  cry,  too,  and  a  half  bound  from 
her  chair,  but  she  sunk  back  as  the  eyes  of  the  trio  turned 
on  her  in  wonder.  Her  face,  her  very  lips  had  turned 
ashen  white,  and  her  blue  eyes  still  were  riveted  on  Eve's 
face,  with  a  look  none  present  could  comprehend.  What 
was  there  in  that  beautiful  face  to  inspire  that  look  of 
fear,  of  affright,  of  positive  horror  ?  Paul  Schaffer  made 
a  step  toward  her. 

**  Madame,  you  are  ill — you  are " 

The  sound  of  his  voice  was  magical.  She  started  to  her 
feet  at  once. 

'*  Yes,"  she  said  shar])ly  ;  "  you  have  s<^art  od  me.  I 
cannot  l)ear  the  sight  of  blood  !  What  is  the  matter  with 
that  voung  ladv  ?  " 

'^  She  has  had  a  fall  from  her  horse  and  has  cut  her 
forehead.  1  regret  that  our  entrance  siiould  have  so 
disturbed  you." 

The  lady's  only  reply  to  Mr.  Schp.lfer's  civil  speech  was 
to  gather  up  her  uumtle  and  sweep  past  him  to  the  door, 
with  a  stormy  rustling  of  silk.  There  the  gentleman  in 
waiting  met  her  Avith  an  inquiring  face. 

'•^llas  the  carriage  not  come  yet,  my  lord?"  sho 
demanded,  in  the  same  sharp  tone. 

*•  Oil,  isn't  she  a  Satan  !  "  Hazel  whispered  to  Eve. 

**  Xot  yet,"  the  gentleman  answered.  ''It  will  be  here 
presently,  though." 

*' I  want  to  go,"  said  the  lady,  still  more  sharply.  *'I 
don't  choose  to  sit  in  a  room  crowded  with  people.  Who 
are  those  persons  who  have  just  entered  ?" 

'*  Civil,  that — uj^on  my  word  !  "exclaimed  Hazel,  whis- 
tling, while  Eve's  eyes  flashed. 

*'  My  dear,"  they  heard  the  gentleman  say,  in  a  low  tone, 
"they  are  most  respectable.  They  are  the  Hazelwoods. 
You  had  better  wait " 

"I  don't  cho(nse  to  wait  any  longer,"  the  lady,  almost 
passioiuitcly,  cried.  "  1  shall  go  if  I  have  to  walk,  sooner 
than  sit  among  such  a  crowd.  Go  and  see  if  '.he  peo^sie 
who  keep  this  place  have  no  sort  of  conveyance  at  all  that 
will  take  us  home  ?" 

"  Here  is  the  carriage,  at  hist  ! ''  exclaimed  the  gentle- 
man, in  a  topc  of  intense  relief.  And  as  bespoke,  a  hand- 
some carriage,  drawn  by  handsome  horses,  and  with  the 


, 


%' 


EVE'S  SECOND  PROPOSAL- 


i6i 


'his- 


iiost 

pple 
Ithat 

itle- 
laiid- 
the. 


arms  of  the  Landsdowne  family  upon  the  panel,  drew  up 
before  the  door.  Right  after  it  came  cantering  a  rider  at 
a  furious  pace.  It  was  Senor  Mendez,  in  a  state  of  intense 
excitement  and  anxiety  about  Eve.  lie  had  seen  the 
horses  at  tlie  door,  and  sprung  from  his  saddle  at  once, 
and  strode  past  Lord  and  Lady  Landsdowne  into  tlie 
parlor. 

"  Eve — ]\[iss  Ilazelwood — are  you  hurt  ?  There  is  blood 
on  your  face  !  " 

'*  It  is  nothing — only  a  scratch, ''  Eve  answered.  ^'  Are 
you  sure  you  are  quite  safe  yourself  ?  It  was  a  second 
edition  of  Mazeppa  or  John  Gilpin — I  hardly  know 
which." 

*'  Oh,  I  am  safe  enough,  only  completely  blown,  and 
frightened  out  of  my  wits  about  you.  1  knew  you  were 
liere  when  I  saw  the  horses." 

He  took  off  his  hat  as  he  spoke,  to  fan  himself,  revealing 
his  face  for  the  first  time  to  the  pair  without.  As  he  did 
so,  there  was  a  wild  shriek  from  the  lady,  a  sudden  reel 
forward,  and  a  something  fell  to  the  floor  like  a  log.  Tiie 
cry  was  echoed  by  the  gentleman,  and  all  rushed  out. 
Lady  Landsdowne  had  fainted,  and  was  lying  on  the  floor 
like  one  dead. 

"  The  lady  has  fainted,"  said  Senor  Mendez,  coolly. 
**  Can  ^ve  be  of  any  assistance  to  your  lordship  ?  " 

*^  Kone,  thank  you.     John,  open  the  door." 

John,  the  coachman,  obeyed,  and  Lord  Landsdowne 
carried  my  lady  in  his  arms,  got  her  in  with  John's  help, 
followed,  and  gave  the  order  to  drive  home.  Our  party 
stood  in  ihi!  doorway  until  the  carriage  was  out  of  sight. 

**  Is  my  lady  mad,  I  wonder  ?  "  asked  Paul  Schaffer. 
"  What  made  her  faint  ?" 

"  And  what  made  her  s-.-ream  and  stare  at  Eve  so  when 
we  came  in  ?"  asked  Hazel.  "She  must  want  a  square  of 
being  sound,  or  she  would  never  cut  up  so." 

''  What  does  Eve  think  ?"  Senor  Mendez  asked,  look- 
ing at  her  with  an  inexplicable  smile. 

But  Eve  did  not  answer.  She  was  watching  a  figure 
coming  through  the  slanting  rain,  with  a  look  at  once 
tender  and  anxious  in  her  eyes. 

"  Here  comes  Monsieur  U'Arville,"  cried  out  Hazel, 
"lookiiijr  like  a  drowned  rat  !  Look  at  Eve's  face.  One 
would  think  she  was  ready  to  cry  from  sympathy." 


l62 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


ii\ 


'^  Do  you  see  ?  "  Senor  Mondez  said,  looking  significantly 
at  Pan!  ScliafTer,  and  that  3'onng  gentleman  smiled  super- 
ciliously. 

"  I  see  Miss  Eve  wears  her  !ieart  on  her  sleeve,  for  daws 
to  peck  at,  and  that  it  U  D'Arville's  turn  to-day — mine  may 
come  to-morrow  !  " 


i 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A  MOUXLIGHT  INTERVIEW. 

Loxn  lances  of  moonlight  streaming  throngli  tlie  vast 
■window,  mingled  witli  tlie  light  of  two  wax  candles,  and 
fell  on  the  pale  face  of  Eve  Hazel  wood,  a«  she  sat  in  an 
easy-chair,  having  her  wounded  foroliead  houjid  with  long 
strips  of  court-plaster. 

On  two  pale  faces,  for  Una  Forest  was  tlie  surgeon,  and 
her  blue  eyes  were  full  of  tender  solicitude,  as  they  rested 
on  the  colorless  face  of  her  patient. 

"llow  pale  you  look,  my  dear  !"  her  soft  voice  was  pity- 
ingly saying.  "  1  am  sure  your  poor  bruised  forehead 
must  bo  verv  nainfiil.'' 

Eve  lauglied  good-naturedly. 

'' Oh,  no.  It  is  not  very  painful  ;  it  only  feels  a  little 
stiff  and  sore.  Don't  I  look  shocking  with  .-ill  this  plaster  ? 
Why  could  not  I  have  bruised  my  arm  or  my  liead  instead 
of  my  fiice,  I  wonder  ?" 

'^  Aly  love,  you  liave  reason  to  be  thankful  it  wa*?  not 
your  neck  you  broke  I  What  would  Mon>ieiir  I^'Arville 
liave  done  tlien  '^" 

Eve  blushed,  as  only  sixteen  yejwis  ever  does,  at  the 
allusion.  What  a  happy  ride  it  liad  lieen  hw  ker,  in  spite 
of  her  cut  face  ! 

*' And  that  reminds  me,"  Miss  Eorett  phi'^i^tlf  went  on, 
noting  the  telltale  blush,  '^  that  '•  "i  \\ii^\  V*tter  keep  your 


room  this  eveninsi,  if  vou  don't 


to  disenchant  him. 


Of  course,  our  Eve  must  be  pretty  a^  all  times,  but  T  can 
assure  her  she  is  a  great  deal  prettiiM  without  strips  of 
court-plaster." 

Eve  glanced  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  and  fully  concurred 
in  the  opinion. 


A  MOONLIGHT  INTERVIEW. 


163 


0 


le 


n. 
ill 


3d 


'•  It's  too  bad,  but  I  suppose  there  is  no  liolp  for  it  ! 
My  head  feels  a  litlle  dizzy  and  confused,  too  ;  and  I 
think,  on  the  whole,  the  best  tiling  I  can  do  is,  to  go  to 
bed."^ 

^^  Exactly,  my  dear  !  You  will  feel  all  right  to-niorruw 
morning,  and  your  roses  will  have  returned  in  full  bloom. 
Now  I  sliall  fetch  you  some  tea  and  toast  and  see  you 
safely  tucked  in  bed.  Hazel  must  not  disturb  you  to- 
night— she  will  make  you  ill  and  feverish  with  her  tittle- 
tattle,  and  must  keep  her  own  room.'' 

"  llow  kind  she  is,  after  all  ! ''  thought  Eve,  as  the  little 
Albino  tripped  away,  ^'and  how  Hazel  audi  have  mis- 
judged her  I  I  feel  as  if  I  could  go  down  into  tlie  valley 
of  humiliation  and  beg  her  ])ardou  on  my  knees  for  ra.^.li 
judgment.  Oh,  what  a  night  it  is  !  and  how  hai)py  1  am  ! 
I  wonder  what  lie  is  doing  down-stairs  I  1  wontler  if  lie 
will  miss  me  this  evening  I" 

Alone  as  she  was,  she  felt  lier  face  glowing,  and  covered 
it  with  her  hands,  witli  a  little  laugh  at  her  own  silliness. 
A  soft  rustling  of  silk  made  her  look  up.  ]\[iss  Forest 
was  there  again,  carrying  a  tray  herself,  laden  with  tea 
and  toast,  and  marmalade. 

'*Now,  my  dear,  take  something  before  you  retire,  it 
will  make  you  feel  all  the  better  to-morrow. '^ 

"How  good  you  are,  ]\riss  Forest!''  Eve  cried  out  in 
the  fulness  of  her  heart,  "  to  take  all  this  trouble  for  me  !  " 

Oh,  Tna  Forest !  little  white  hypocrite  I  had  you  ever 
in  all  your  life  been  guilty  of  a  blush,  it  should  have  been 
then  I  liut  the  pale  blue  eyes  only  shifted  away  uiulcr 
the  grateful  glance  of  the  luminous  black  ones,  and  the 
little  fiiir  hands  twisted  in  and  out  among  the  plates. 

''Don't  mention  it,  my  dear;  it  is  nothing  !  Why  do 
you  not  eat  ?     You  taste  nothing.'' 

"'  I  am  not  hungry,  thank  you  I  1  want  nothing  but 
the  tea.  And  now  I  think  I  will  lie  down,  and  sleep  away 
tliis  dizzy  head.'^ 

"  And  I  will  take  away  these  candles,  lest  they  should 
tempt  you  to  sit  up  and  read  ;  ami  1  will  lock  your  door 
to  keep  that  little  tomboy.  Hazel,  from  breaking  in,"  said 
Miss  Forest,  laughing  ami  nodding.  "And  now,  my  love, 
good  night  and  pleasant  dreams  to  you  I  " 

She  kissed  her  as  she  spoke — the  little  fenude  Judiis — 
and  left  the  room,  putting  the  key  in   lier  pocket.     !Sho 


m 


i 


RE ' ' 

M 

-  ' 

B' 

4j|i 

R' 

MX 

B| 

i » 

M' 

1 

H| 

K 

1; 

1 

ill' 

1 

i 

^. 

1 

/ 

i'ffi' 


J1: 

Ijiii 

In 

w 


i 


164 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


glanced  back  at  it  from  the  licatl  of  the  stairs  with  a  cold, 
glittering,  evil  smile. 

"  They  may  be  pleasant  to-night,  pretty  Eve,"  she  said, 
softly,  "but  they  will  liardly  be  so  sweet  to-morrow  night. 
You  shall  never  be  D'Arville's  brid  ~  until  my  brain  loses 
its  power  to  plot,  and  my  right  hand  its  cunning  to  work." 

She  clenched  the  little  digit  fiercely  as  she  spoke,  and 
went  down-stairs  to  the  parlor. 

Hazel  and  D'Arville  were  tliere  :  the  former  jingling 
away  at  the  piano  ;  the  latter  holding  a  book,  but  seeing 
only  a  pair  of  black  eyes,  a  shower  of  black  curls,  and  a 
very  young  face,  fresh  and  sunshiny  as  Hebe's  own,  look- 
ing up  at  him  from  every  page. 

Hazel  stopped  clattering  the  "  Wedding  March,"  whirled 
round  on  her  stool  and  faced  Una. 

"Where's  Eve?" 

*'  In  her  room." 

•'Ain't  she  coming  down  ?  " 

*'Not  to-night,  she  says.  She  has  court-plaster  on  her 
forehead,  and  feels  light-headed  after  her  fall,  so  has  gone 
to  bed.     I  locked  you  out  for  the  night." 

*' Locked  me  out!"  shrilly  cried  Hazel.  *MVliat  is 
that  for  ?  " 

*'  She  thinks  she  will  feel  better  alone,  I  suppose.  All 
I  know  is,  you  are  to  keep  your  own  room  to-night." 

''  The  hateful  mean  thing  !  I'll  go  and  sleep  in  the 
attic  with  one  of  the  maids,  before  I  roost  alone  in  there 
among  all  the  ghosts  and  rats  and  other  vermin.  Eve's 
nothing  but  a  nasty  selfish  thing  I '' 

*'  My  dear,  if  you  are  really  afraid,"  said  Miss  Forest, 
blandly,  "  you  can  share  my  chamber  for  this  one  night." 

''  Oh,"  said  Hazel,  wilting  down  suddenly  at  the  pro- 
posed cure,  which  was  worse  than  the  disease,  *'  I  guess  I 
shan't  mind  it  so  much,  after  all.  If  Eve  and  the  rest  of 
you  can  face  the  ghosts  alone,  I  dare  say  I  can,  too. 
Well,  what's  the  matter  now  ?  " 

For  Miss  Forest,  putting  her  hand  in  her  pocket  sud- 
denly, uttered  a  sharp  exclamation  of  alarm. 

D'Arville  lifted  an  inquiring  face  from  iiis  book. 

''  I  have  lost  my  purse,  and  it  contained  money  to  a 
large  amount  !  I  had  it  when  I  was  out  in  the  grounds 
this  afternoon.     I  must  have  dropped  it  there." 

D'Arville  rose  up. 


\ 


w 


l- 


A  MOONLIGHT  INTERVIEW. 


165 


**The  night  is  clear  as  day  ;  permit  me  to  go  ^u'.  and 
search  for  it,  Miss  Forest." 


Miss  Forest  hesitated. 
"  It  is  so  much  trouble." 
*'  It  is  no  trouble  at  all. 


In  what  part  of  the  grounds 
were  you 

"  Oil,  in  several  places  ;  but  I  think  I  may  have  dropj)ed 
it  near  the  old  well,  at  the  ash-trees.  You  know  the 
place  ?  I  remember  pulling  my  handkerchief  out  tliero 
to  throw  over  my  head,  and  may  havejjulled  the  purse  out 
with  it." 

"  What  kind  of  purse  was  it  ?  " 

**  A  portmonnaie  of  gold  and  ebony.  It  was  a  gift  from 
a  dear  friend  ;  and,  imlependent  of  the  money  it  contained, 
very  valuable  to  mo  on  that  account.  Hazel  and  I  will  go 
with  you  and  help  in  the  search." 

The  three  started.  xVll  traces  of  the  thunder-storm  had 
disappeared,  and  the  full  moon  rode  in  a  cloudless  sky, 
studded  with  countless  stars. 

As  D'Arville  had  said,  it  was  clear  as  day,  and  the  old 
house  looked  quaint  and  picturesque  in  the  silvery 
rays. 

''  What  a  lovely  ni.i;'lit,"  Una  exclaimed.  '*  Who  says 
it  is  all  fog  in  England  !  Your  blue  Caiuidian  skies  were 
never  brighter  than  that.  Monsieur  D'Arville  I" 

"  The  night  is  glorious,  and  old  England  a  very  pleasant 
place.  Miss  Forest,  llazelwood  looks  charming  by  moon- 
light." 

'*  And  Evc^s  gone  to  bed  I  "  sentontiously  put  in  Hazel, 
following  his  glance.  ''  Her  room  is  all  in  the  dark. 
That's  a  bran-new  idcji  of  I'crs  ;  for  of  late  she  has  taken 
to  sit  at  the  window  and  star-gaze.  1  believe  the  girl's  in 
love  ! " 

"And  who  is  the  happy  man,  pcfitc?'''  smilingly  in- 
quired Una. 

''Oh,  a  friend  of  ours;  either  Senor  ^fendez,  Mr. 
Schaffer,  or  Monsieur  D'Arvill'  ,  here.  And,"  said  Hazel, 
with  an  innocent  face,  "  I  realiy  don't  kiu.)W  whicli." 

The  dark  Canadian  face  of  D'Avville  lit  up  with  its  rare 
smile. 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  thought  Mr.  SchaiTer  was  your  prop- 
erty ?  " 

**  Well,  that's  the  very  reason  why  Eve  might  want  him 


1 66 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


; 


ii  ■■: 


?j 


too.     One  girl  always  does  want  w^hat  another  possesses, 
and  tries  to  cut  lior  out.     I  know  I  should  myself  !  " 

"  A  very  amiable  trait  in  young  ladies'  characters.  But, 
here  we  are  at  the  ash- trees,  and  now  for  Miss  Forest's 
j^urse." 

Jiut  though  they  wandered  up  and  down,  and  here  and 
there,  and  in  and  out  among  the  asli-trees,  no  glittering 
speck  of  gold  and  ebony  tlaslied  back  the  moonlight  from 
the  grass. 

'"  We  had  better  go  over  to  the  old  well,"  said  Una, 
anxiously  ;  "■  it  is  just  possible  I  may  have  dropped  it  there, 
and  it  is  quite  certain  it  is  not  here." 

The  *^  old  well"  was  some  half-dozen  yards  of — a  lone- 
some spot,  shaded  by  gloomy  ash-trees,  where  few  ever 
went.  The  three  turned  their  steps  in  that  direction — 
steps  that  awoke  no  echo  on  the  velvet  sward — when  Hazel 
suddenly  stopped  and  raised  a  warning  finger. 

''  Hush  !  "  she  whispered  ;  ''listen  to  tliat  ! 

'^  It  is  voices,"  said  D'Arville,  lowering  his  own.  "  Some 
one  is  at  the  old  well  before  us,  and  may  have  found  your 
purse." 

"  Let  us  see  who  they  are,"  said  Una.  '*  We  can  do  it 
without  being  seen  ourselves.  I  don't  want  to  lose  the 
purse,  if  I  can  lieli^  it.     And " 

She  stopped  short,  and  laid  her  hand  over  Hazel's  mouth, 
to  stifle  the  cry  that  was  breaking  from  her  at  the  sight 
they  beheld.  In  the  clear  moonlight,  under  the  old  oak- 
trees,  two  figures  stood  distinctly  revealed.  There  was 
no  mistaking  their  identity.  The  tall  young  man  was 
Paul  SchafTer  ;  th.^  girl,  wrapped  in  a  large  shawl  familiar 
to  all  three,  witli  strips  of  white  plaster  on  her  forehead, 
was  Eve  Hazelwood.  Yes,  Eve  Hazclwood.  There  was 
no  mistaking  that  beautiful  face,  that  shower  of  shining 
hair,  those  lustrous  black  eyes,  uplifted  to  the  man's  face. 
Together  these  two  stood  as  only  lovers  stand,  his  arm 
encircling  her  waist,  his  head  bent  down  until  his  own 
dark  locks  mingled  with  hers.  They  were  talking,  too, 
as  only  lovers  talk  ;  and  as  they  moved  away  very  slowly 
in  an  opposite  direction,  the  listening  trio  distinctly 
caught  every  word.  It  was  Paul  Schaffer's  laughing  voice 
they  heard  first. 

"  And   so   the   poor  little   Canadian   schoolmaster    lias 


A  MOONLIGHT  INTERVIEW. 


167 


las 


actually  come  to  it  at  last,  aiid  yon  have  won  your  bet. 
What  a  wickcnl  little  thing  yon  are,  live  !  " 

''And  I'm  going  to  write  to  Kate,  to-morrow,'^  said  the 
voice  of  Eve — tliat  sweet  and  silvery  voice.  "  It  was  the 
night  of  tlie/V/c — you  renieniher,  Paul — that  she  and  I 
made  that  lueniorable  bet  that  I  would  not  have  the  Uinty 
]»rofessor  at  my  feot  before  the  end  of  three  months. 
Kate  thought  liim  like  Achilles,  invincible;  but  I  knew 
better,  and  to-day  he  came  to  it  at  last." 

"  Your  fall  was  not  so  unlucky,  then,  after  all,^'  ho 
laughed,  and  Eve  joined  in. 

"  What  would  you  say,  Paul,  if  I  told  you  the  fall  was 
more  than  half  planned  ?  ile  was  so  tiresome  and  so  long 
coming  to  the  point,  that  some  ruse  was  necessary,  and 
that  was  only  one  I  could  think  of.  It  answered  the 
purpose  admirably.     Oh,  you  should  have  heard  him  I" 

"  You  pretty  little  sinner  !  And  what  do  you  suppose 
I  am  going  to  say  to  such  goings-on,  Mistress  Eve  ?" 

"Nothing  at  all,  of  course!  You  know  I  care  for  no 
one  in  the  world  but  you,  Paul.  And  I  have  not  half  done 
yet,  for  I  mean  to  number  Senor  IMendez  among  my  list  of 
killed  and  wounded  before  I  am  satisfied.'' 

''  Now,  Eve  !" 

'*  Now,  Paul!" — with  pretty  willfulncj-'s — *'I  must,  I 
tell  you  !  ]\ly  reputation  as  a  beauty  is  at  stake,  and  I 
feel  in  duty  bound  to  humble  the  old  gramlee  !  Oh,  what 
a  splendid  night  it  is  !  And  they  tliink  I  am  sle(>piiig  the 
sleep  of  the  just  up  in  my  room  !  ^ly  poor  brnis(vl  fore- 
head"— laughing  gayly — '' was  a  fine  excuse  to  steal  out 
and  meet  you." 

*'Eve,  what  did  you  say  to  D'Arville  ? "' 

*'  Nothing  at  all.  Do  you  think  I  am  so  poor  a  diplomat? 
But  actions  and  looks,  you  know,  sometimes  speak  louder 
than  words.  Oh,  he  has  his  answer,  and  is  a  happy 
man  ! " 

*'  Poor  fellow  !     Eve,  you  ought  to  have  a  little  mercy  !  " 

''  Bah  !  you  lecture,  ijulccd  !  Why  have  you  no  mercy 
on  Hazel  ?  You  do  nothing  but  make  love  to  her  from 
morning  till  night,  and  pay  no  attention  to  me." 

"  My  dear,  dear  Eve,  you  mistake.  She  makes  love  to 
me  !  As  to  not  noticing  you,  is  it  not  some  of  your  pro- 
voking diplomacy  ?  I  give  you  fair  warning,  I  won't 
stand  it  much  longer  ! " 


;i- 


1 68 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


.in 


" 


'1  ::i 


'it! 

I 


-I' 
1/!' 


The  girl  clasped  his  arm  with  both  hands,  and  looked 
lip  in  his  face,  with  lauglniig,  loving  eyes. 

**'  You  dear,  cross,  good-natured  Paul !  It  won^t  be 
necessary  for  vou  to  stand  it  niucli  loiiijer.  Once  I  have 
conquercnl  Monsieur  Mustache  W'hiskerando,  as  Hazel  calls 
liini,  ril  be  good  and  ()])CMliont,  and  let  you  have  your  own 
■way  in  every  tiling.  You  know  well  enough  I  care  forno- 
body  but  vou.  Do  I  not  run  risk  enough  in  meeting  you 
like  this  'i'' 

There  w;is  a  caress,  and  an  answer  breathed  so  low  that 
tliey  could  not  catch  it  ;  and  then  the  lovers  turned  into 
a  side-path,  and  di>;app«->ared.  lint  both  faces,  as  they 
turned,  were  for  a  second  full  toward  tlieni,  with  the 
bright  moonlight  shining  full  on  them;  and  every  vestige 
of  doubt,  if  such  a  thing  could  still  linger,  vanished. 
]>eautifu],  treacherous,  deceitful,  it  was  indeed  the  face  of 
Eve  Ilazelwood — all  her  black  curls  fluttering  in  the 
night-wind  ;  and  that  otlier,  bending  over  her,  Avas  Paul 
Schalfer,  Hazel's  false  lover.  Tlien  they  were  gone,  and 
only  the  cold,  mocking  moonlight  remained  where  they  had 
stood. 

A  spell  seemed  to  have  bound  the  three  lookers-on  to  the 
spot.  Their  evanishment  broke  it.  There  was  a  sound, 
something  between  a  cry  and  a  hysterical  sob,  from  poor 
Hazel,  as  she  grasped  D'Arvillc's  arm. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  D'Arville,  it  is  Paul  and  Eve  I " 

He  had  been  standing  as  motionless  as  if  changed  to 
stone,  his  eyes  neve?;  moving  from  the  pair  before  him 
while  they  had  remained.  Xow  he  turned  to  the  poor 
little  s^^eaker,  his  face  like  white  marble,  but  with  pity  in 
his  deep,  dark  eyes  for  her. 

"Yes,  poor  child  I  I  liave  long  known  that  this  must 
come  tQ  you  some  day  ;  but  I  never  tliought  of  its  coming 
in  this  mjinner.  We  have  both  been  deceived.  Hazel — I 
far  more  than  you," 

**  Can  I  believe  my  eyes  !  I  feel  as  if  I  were  dreaming  ! 
I  always  tliought  she  disliked  Mr.  Schalfer,"  said  Una 
Forest,  witli  a  bewildered  look. 

A  sinile,  cold  and  bitter,  and  mocking,  broke  over 
D^Arville's  face. 

''  Did  you  not  hear  the  reason  ? — it  was  the  young  lady's 
diplomacy— she  wished  to  win  her  bets  and  make  more 
conquests.     I  have  known  this  long  time  Mr.  Schalfer  was 


Id! 


A  MOONLIGHT  INTERVIEW. 


169 


i?f 


re 

as 


one  of  her  admirers  ;  but  I  was  so  well  deceived  by  the  fair 
diplomat  tliat  I  imagined  the  love  was  all  on  his  side. 
Miss  Wood,  get  up — you  had  better  go  back  to  the  house." 

Poor  Miss  Wood  !  She  had  sunk  down  on  the  wot  grass, 
sobbing  hysterically,  sobbiu.;-  as  a  little  child  does,  who 
has  lost  a  precious  toy.  D'Arville  raised  her  gently  and 
drew  her  hand  within  his  arm,  and  Hazel  let  herself  be 
drawn  away,  weeping  still,  but  *'  passive  to  all  clianges." 

"You  had  better  let  her  stay  with  you  to-night,  ]\Iisa 
Forest,"  he  said,  *'and  try  and  comfort  her  !  Her  dream 
has  been  broken  rudely  and  bitterly  enough." 

"'  I  shall  do  my  best,"  Una  said  ;  "  but,  good  lioavens  ! 
who  could  have  imagined  this  was  Eve  Hazel  wood  ?  I 
thought  her  simple  as  a  child — pure  as  a  saint." 

''My  mistake,  exactly  !  "  D'Arville  said,  with  the  same 
cold  smile;  *'I  have  often  heard  how  fair  an  outside 
falsehood  hath — I  have  never  fully  realized  it  before." 

"  I  shall  inform  ]Mr.  Hazelwood  to-morrow,"  said  Miss 
Forest,  firmly;  "it  is  my  duty  to  put  a  stop  to  such 
shameful  doings.  Miss  Eve  will  find  she  must  turn  over  a 
new  leaf  for  the  future." 

D'Arville  said  nothing — his  heart  was  far  too  sore  and 
bitter  for  mere  words.  When  they  entered  the  house  and 
stood  in  the  upper  hall,  on  the  way  to  their  apartments, 
lie  stopped  at  his  door  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Una. 

"Goodnight,  ]\[iss  Forest,"  he  said;  "let  me  thank 
you  now  for  all  the  kindness  you  have  shown  me  since  I 
have  been  in  this  house.  Be  good  to  this  poor  little  girl, 
and  try  and  comfort  her,  if  you  can." 

He  was  gone,  and  his  door  was  shut.  Una  stood  look- 
ing at  it,  with  a  puzzled  face. 

"  What  does  he  mean — thanking  me  now,  and  with  that 
look  ?  He  cannot  mean  to  go  !  Oli,  pshaw  !  of  course 
not !  come  along,  ILizel  I  " 

She  drew  Hazel  along  to  her  room — poor  Hazel,  who 
did  nothing  but  cry,  and  began  early  })reparing  for  bed. 

"  Don't  be  a  baby,"  was  her  consolatory  address  ;  "  wipe 
your  eyes  and  go  to  l)ed  I  l.ct  ^Ir.  Schaffer  go — he  was 
only  fooling  you  all  the  time,  and  everybody  saw  it  but 
yourself  !  " 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  was  dead — I  do!"  was  Hazel's  wicked 
but  natural  cry,  her  passionate  sobs  only  increasing  for 
their  comfort.     "  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born  !  " 


<  I 


'll 


'111 


u 


■  m. 


iiii; 


170 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


Tliere  was  another  in  a  room  near,  m'Iio,  though  he  shed 
no  tears,  uttered  no  cry,  was  perhaps  wisliing  the  same  in 
tlie  hitterness  of  his  lieart.  JIo  was  on  his  knees,  not  in 
prayer,  ahas  !  but  packing  his  trunk,  hustling  everything 
in  in  a  heap,  as  men  do.  It  did  not  take  long — the  trunk 
was  packed,  looked,  strapped,  so  was  his  portmanteau,  and 
then  he  sat  down  at  the  table  to  write.  It  was  a  letter, 
and  a  short  one. 

'^  Sir  : — Pardon  my  hasty  departure,  but  circumstances 
roTider  it  unavoidable.  I  desire  no  remuneration  for  the 
short  time  I  have  served  you.  Miss  Forest  may  perhaps 
explain  matters  more  fully. 

*'  Yours  respectfully, 

'*  Claude  D'Arville." 

The  note  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Hazelwood.  Then,  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  he  began  another. 

"  My  Dkar  Miss  Forest  : — After  the  scene  we  wit- 
nessed to-night,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  remain  longer  at 
Hazelwood.  I  leave  by  the  first  train  this  morning  for 
London — from  there  I  will  send  an  address  to  which  my 
luggage  can  be  forwarded.  Thanking  you  oi  ce  more  for 
your  past  kindness,  and  begging  you  to  be  good  to  poor 
Hazel,  I  remain  your  sincere  friend, 

^'  C.  D'Arville." 

The  gray  dawn  was  creeping  in,  pale  and  cold,  as  he 
sealed  this  last,  and  arose.  He  put  on  an  overcoat,  for 
the  air  was  chill,  took  his  traveling-bag  in  his  hand,  and 
went  down  tlie  grand  staircase,  and  out  of  the  great  hall- 
door  of  the  Hazelwood  mansion. 

And  so,  while  Eve  slept  and  dreamed  rosy  dreams  of  to- 
morrow, the  gray  and  dreary  dawn  of  that  to-morrow  saw 
him  of  whom  she  dreamed,  flying  far  from  her  as  last  as 
steam  could  carry  him,  to  the  busy  world  of  London. 


I; 


A  STORMY  DAY 


t;i 


CHAPTER  XX. 


A  STORMY    DAY. 

Rain"  lashing  the  windows,  rain  drenching  the  grass, 
rain  dripping  from  tlic  trees,  rain  blurring  and  blotting 
out  everything  in  a  pale  blank  of  sodden  mist,  and  a  high 
gale  driving  it  in  slanting  lines  before  it — that  was  what 
Eve  saw,  looking  from  her  chamber- window,  next  morn- 
ing. A  change  had  eome  over  the  night,  ami  the  (.-loud- 
less  sky  and  brilliant  moou-light  had  boon  followed  by  a 
drear  and  dismal  day.  A  gloomy  jirospc't  Eve's  dark  eyes 
looked  on,  the  deserted  avenue,  the  sphishy  eonntr)  road 
beyond,  the  storm-beaten  trees,  writhing  and  tossing  their 
long  arms  aloft,  and  the  weird  blast  shrieking  through 
them  with  a  wild,  half-human  sort  of  cry.  ]3ut  the  heart 
makes  its  own  sunshine,  and  Eve  was  singing,  half-uncon- 
scious, Avithasmilo  on  her  face  like  a  happy  child,  singing 
a  snatch  of  the  sweet  ballad  somebody — her  somebody — 
had  sung  months  ago,  at  ]\radam  Schafter's /V/e  ; 

"  Ellen  Adair,  slie  lovotl  me  well, 

Against  her  father  and  mother's  will. 
To-day  1  sat  for  an  hour  and  \vei)t 

By  JEllen's  grave  on  the  windy  hill. 
Shy  she  was,  and  I  thought  her  proud — 

Thought  her  cold  and  fled  o'er  the  sea  ; 
Filled  was  I  with  folly  and  spite, 

When  Ellen  Adair  was  dyinp;  for  me. 
Cruel,  cruel,  were  the  words  I  said, 

Cruel  came  they  back  to  me." 

She  stopped  short,  and  dropped  the  curtain  over  the 
window,  with  a  delicious  little  shiver. 

*'  What  a  song  for  me  t<>  sing  this  moruitig  I  Oh,  how 
happy  I  am,  and  liow  good  every  one  is  to  me  I  AViiat  a 
thankful  heart  I  ought  to  have  to  the  Author  of  all  good 
gifts  ! " 

There  was  a  picture  over  her  bed — '^  Christ  l^lessing 
Little  Children.  '  Eve's  f;ice  grew  grave  and  reverent,  as 
she  lifted  her  eyes  to  that  divine  countenance,  so  sublime 
in  its  calm  majesty  ;  and  kneeling  down,  she  bowed  her 


i    ■! 


E- 


m  I 


172 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


head  in  licr  hniids  to  -ay  licr  morning-prayers.  So  long 
slie  knelt,  tljat  ten  struck  from  the  loud-voiced  clock  in 
tlio  hall  without,  and  a  tap  at  the  door  only  aroused  her 
at  last.  She  rose  and  opened  it,  and  saw  one  of  the 
housemaids  standing  there. 

"Oh,  is  it  you,  Mary?''  Eve  said.  '^  I  suppose  you 
have  come  to  tell  me  breakfast  is  ready  ?" 

''  Yes,  miss,  and  Miss  Forest  is  waiting.  Is  your 
face  better  this  morning,  miss  ?  " 

*'  Much  better,  thank  you.  Tell  miss  Forest  I  will  be 
down  in  a  moment." 

She  had  taken  the  disfiguring  court-plaster  off,  and  only 
a  few  red  scratches  remained.  Eve  took  a  parting  peep 
at  herself  in  the  glass  to  make  sure  that  her  curls  were 
smooth  and  her  collar  straight  ;  and  thought,  with  a 
smile  and  a  blush,  as  she  ran  down-stairs,  she  would  not 
look  so  very  frightful  in  his  eyes,  after  all.  She  might 
have  spared  herself  the  trouble.  Una  Forest  only  was  in 
the  room,  standing  at  the  table,  waiting.  One  look  at 
her  face  sent  a  chill  to  Eve's  bounding  heart  ;  and  had  it 
been  carved  out  of  an  iceberg  or  a  snow-wreath,  it  could 
not  have  been  whiter  or  colder.  Iler  thin,  pale  lips  were 
cold,  compressed,  smileless  ;  her  eyes  as  devoid  of  light 
or  warmth  as  the  sapphire  stone  ;  and  even  the  rustle  of 
lier  Quakerish  gray  dress  had  something  chilling  and  re- 
pellent in  its  sound.  Where  was  the  kind,  motherly, 
warm-hearted  Una  Forest  of  last  night  ?  Had  she  been 
a  changeling  of  the  radiant  moonlight,  that  had  gone  for- 
ever and  vanished  with  it  ?  " 

*'  I  have  kept  you  waiting,  I  am  afraid,"  Eve  faltered, 
her  air-castles  shivering  on  their  frail  foundations. 

**  Yes,"  Miss  Forest  coldly  said  ;  **  you  have.  Be  good 
enough  to  take  your  place." 

She  2")oured  out  the  coffee  and  passed  the  toast  in  a  man- 
ner that  effectually  took  avay  Eve's  appetite  ;  but  indig- 
nation was  coming  to  her  aid  now  and  giving  her  courage. 
Miss  Forest,  watching  her  as  a  cat  does  some  unfortunate 
mouse  it  is  going  to  devour,  presently  saw  a  hot  red  spot 
coming  into  either  cheek,  and  a  bright,  angry  light  in 
either  eye.  What  had  she  done  to  be  treated  like  this  ? 
She  liad  committed  no  crime,  that  she  need  be  afraid. 
She  would  speak,  and  show  Miss  Forest  she  was  no  slave 
of  her  humors  and  whims. 


iiiiiii 


A  STORMY  DAY. 


173 


ig- 


ate 

pot 

in 
9 


''Where  is  cousin  llazol  ?"  slie  doTnanded,  looking  np. 

Una  Forest's  palo-blue  orbs  met  the  bright  ])hiok  ones 
"vvith  a  ghince  so  cold,  so  stern,  so  severe,  and  so  prolonged, 
that  tlie  outraged  crimson  rose  in  a  fiery  tide  to  Kve's 
brow. 

"You  want  to  know  where  Mi^^s  Wood  is,  do  you  ? '' 

*'  Yes,  Miss  Forest." 

"  Then  she  is  in  my  room,  where  she  has  been  all  night, 
too  ill  to  leave  it." 

Eve  rose  precipitately. 

"•  Hazel  sick  !  When — how — what  is — Miss  Forest,  I 
must  go  to  her  at  once  !  " 

Miss  Forest  pushed  aside  her  plate  and  cup  and  rose, 
too." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  will  do  nothing  of  the 
kind." 

''Miss  Forest!" 

"  Miss  Hazelwood — if  thatbevour  name — 1  am  mistress 
here,  I  think,  and  accustomed  to  be  obeyed.  You  do  not 
set  foot  in  my  room,  either  to-day  or  any  other  day,  while 
you  see  fit  to  remain  at  Hazelwood  Hall  I " 

Eve  stood  looking  at  her,  utterly  confounded.  Had 
Miss  Forest  suddenly  gone  mad  ?  The  cold,  sweet  voice 
of  th;it  pale  little  lady  broke  the  brief  silence. 

"  You  thought  no  one  was  watching  you  last  night, 
doubtless,  when  you  held  that  shameful  interview.  You 
thought  the  lie  vou  acte<l  would  never  be  discovered  ;  but 
both  are  known  now,  and  so  are  you,  you  wicked  and  shame- 
less girl !  And  yet,  after  it  all,  you  can  dare  to  stand  and 
look  me  in  the  face  like  this  !  Oh,  I  could  blush  for  you, 
so  young  and  so  depraved  I" 

"  Stand  and  look  her  in  the  face  ! " 

Eve's  great  dark  eyes  were  dilating  in  utter  bewilder- 
ment, to  twice  their  natural  size,  while  every  trace  of 
color  was  slo>vly  fading  from  her  face. 

"  Go  to  your  room,  now,"  Miss  Forest's  i)itiless  voice 
continued,  as  she  moved  to  the  door  ;  ''  to  one  more  in- 
jured than  I,  I  leave  the  task  of  upbraiding  you.  Go  to 
your  room,  nnhappy  girl,  and  remain  there  until  sent 
for." 

She  was  gone,  but  Eve  never  moved.  She  stood  liter- 
ally rooted  to  the  spot,  so  completely  lost  in  wonder,  so 
utterly  dumfounded  by  this  amazing  and  vague  charge 


r 


■  {■' 


174 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


■i; 


'}■<  • 


.  ■ 

I 


ii 


1 1 

m 

Mr 


'! 


;:'  Hi! 


i 


p 


Ik 


1i' 


of  crime,  that  slic  scarcely  knew  whetlier  slie  were  asloej) 
or  awake.  Slie  passed  lier  hand  over  her  face  in  a  be- 
wildered way. 

"What  does  she  mean?  Wliat  did  she  say  I  liad 
done  ? "  slie  asked  lierself,  confusedly.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand at  all  !  (io  to  my  room  and  stay  there  I  What  will 
I  do  that  for  ?  I  will  not  do  it.  Xo,  I  will  not  I  If 
Miss  Forest  has  gone  mad,  I  will  lind  out  wliat  she 
means." 

Indignation  had  come  to  the  rescue  again.  p]ve's  spirit, 
raturally  bright.  Hashed  u])  in  her  pale  face,  kindling  a 
red  glow  there,  and  blazing  like  black  flame  in  the  flash- 
ing eyes.  Impetuously,  she  started  after  Miss  l-'orest,  but 
]\Ii.ss  Forest  was  not  to  be  fomul.  bhe  had  given  a  brief 
order  about  dinner  and  had  gone  away,  and  the  servants 
knew  nothing  of  her.  Witli  a  stc})  that  rung  and  re- 
bounded, Fve  n)arched  across  the  upper  hall,  and  knocked 
at  her  door.  There  was  no  answer  ;  and  though  she 
knocked  again  and  again,  it  was  all  labor  lost.  Eve  stood 
ruid  listened,  the  angry  blood  coursing  tumultuously 
through  every  throbbing  vein. 

'*  She  is  in  there,  I  know,"  was  her  thought,  ''and  she 
hears  me  well  enough.  I  shall  not  stir  from  here  until 
she  comes  out,  if  I  have  to  wait  the  whole  day  long." 

Too  excited  to  stand  still,  the  girl  began  pacing  rapidly 
and  vehemently  up  and  down  the  long  hall,  watciiin.g  the 
door  that  never  o})ened.  Xo,  indeed  ;  why  should  it  when 
there  was  another  door  within  that  chamber  communica- 
ting with  the  lower  hall,  of  which  she  knew  nothing.  So 
Fve  trod  up  and  down  like  a  liandsome  young  Pythoness 
going  into  training  for  expeditious  as  an  Amazon  sentry, 
while  Miss  Hazel  was  serenely  attending  to  her  d.ties  down- 
stairs. So  while  hour  after  hour  of  the  (lark,  rainy  day  wore 
0T1,  Eve  paced  her  lonely  beat  undisturbed — for  not  even 
the  housenuiid  cnnie  near  her — until  she  grew  so  completely 
exhausted  that  she  could  walk  no  longer.  Fven  then  she 
would  not  leave,  so  sure  was  she  that  there  was  some  one 
within  ;  but  seated  hcrseH'  within  the  wide  window-ledge 
at  the  end  of  the  liail,  and  gazed  out  at  the  bleared  aiid 
desolate  evening,  with  all  its  own  gh^o)n  on  her  face.  Oh, 
where  was  D'Arville  ?  Where  was  Hazel  ?  Had  they  all 
deserted  her  together  ?  Had  they  all  gone  crazed  with 
Uiia  Forest  ? 


'I'M 


A  STORMY  DAY. 


175 


.(,. 


a 


the 
len 
ica- 
So 
ness 
tvv, 
\vn- 
vvore 
even 
tely 
slio 

Olio 

iind 
Oh, 
,'  all 


e( 


wi 


th 


Six  strnok  f'-om  tlic  liail-olock.  A  voice  at  Eve's  ear 
an  instant  after  madolior  bound  ;  but  it  was  only  the  serv- 
ant who  had  corr.e  to  her  in  the  morning,  and  whom  she 
had  not  lieard  eros.-j  tlie  hall. 

"  ]\riss  Eve,  Miss  Forest  wants  to  know  if  you  will  come 
down  to  dinner  ?  " 


>9 


i( 


Miss  Forest :  is  slie  in  lier  ow?!  room 

(Jh,  dear,  no,  miss  ;  she's  l>ccn  down-stairs  all  dav 


yy 


Ev<'  pressed  lier  haiid  to  \wr  ilirobbin^j^  forehead. 

^' And  is  it  J  who  am  going  mud  ?  "  slie  thought. 

"  You  look  poorly,  miss ;  ymw  fn/io  is  as  white  as  a 
sheet,"  the  girl  said,  pityingly,  15<M'  all  in  the  house  liked 
the  bright-eyed,  pleasant-voiced  young  American  girl. 
^*I'm  afraid  you've  caught  cold  u[)  in  this  damp,  nasty 
'all,  which  it's  as  drafty  as  ever  ;{  can  be.  Do  come  down 
and  take  your  dinner  comfortably,  ^^i^'s  Eve." 

Eve  rose  passively  to  follow  her,  -ler  head  all  confused, 
feeling  as  if  some  one  had  struck  her  a  blow  and  stunned 
her. 

''  Is  Miss  Forest  alone  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Xo,  miss  ;  Miss  Hazel  is  with  iier,  and  you  can't  see 
an  eye  in  her  "ead  for  cryi^.g,  whatever  be  the  matter.  ' 

Eve  said  no  more — Hazel  in  trouble,  too — it  was  all  of  a 
piece  with  the  rest— all  mystery  to  her.  iMiss  Forest 
turned  sharply  n])on  her  the  moment  she  entered. 

'•  1  wish.  Miss  Eve  Hazel  wood,  you  \i'ould  coiue  to  attend 
your  meals  in  proper  season,  and  not  keep  me  waiting  and 
tiie  servants  tramping  all  over  the  house  for  y(ni  I  Mary, 
go  up  to  ^Ir.  D'Arville's  room  and  ask  him  if  he  will  })leaso 
(lescend  to  dinner." 

Eve's  heart  bounded.  Oil,  ho  was  coming  at  last  ;  lie 
who  never  could  be  cruel  or  unjust,  whose  love  would 
shield  her,  M'hose  strcng;h  would  suj)i)ort  her,  whose  clear 
brain  would  Iind  out  what  all  this  dreadful  mystery  of  un- 
kindness  meant,  'i'heii  her  eye  fell  on  Hazel,  who  sat  in 
a  corner,  her  ruddy  face  pale  ;  her  laughing  hiown  eyes 
red  and  swollen;  her  bright,  round,  good-natured  fa(^o 
clouded  and  sullen.  Yes,  sullen — that.  I  am  s(u-!t  to  say, 
is  the  only  word  for  it.  Hazel  had  cried  until  she  rould 
cry  no  longer,  and  had  relai)3ed  now  into  a  state  of  unmit- 
igated sulkiness.      Eve  went  over  eagerly  to  her. 

'•'Hazel,  dear,  what  is  tlio  matter  with  you  ?  Are  you 
sick— are  vou  in  trouble  ?" 


Ml 

'I 


:!l 


■■4 


mmmm 


176 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


She  laid  her  IkuhI  on  irazel's  slioulder,  but  that  young 
lady  started  up  and  ihing  it  oif  violently. 

'*  Don't  touch  ?ne  I  don't  come  near  nie,  you  mean,  un- 
derhand, deceitful,  treacherous,  lying  thing  I  1  hate  you 
—there." 

A  hysterical  outburst  of  sobs  wound  up  the  outburst  of 
temper.  Kve  recoiled  as  if  she  had  been  struck  in  the 
face,  a!nl  a  malicious  smile  dawned  on  the  thin  lips  of  Una 
Forest.  Mary  came  suddenly  in  with  a  startled  face  and 
two  letters  in  her  hand. 

''  Oh,  if  you  please,  Miss  Forest/'  she  began,  vehemently, 
'•  Mr.  D'Arville  is  not  in  his  room  at  all,  and  his  bed  hasn't 
been  slept  in  all  night,  and  his  trunk  and  things  is  all 
packed,  and  here's  two  letters  as  I  found  on  his  table  ; 
and  if  you  please,  miss,  1  do  think  as  how  he's  been  and 
gone  away." 

Una  Forrest  crossed  the  room  and  snatcl  ed  the  letters 
out  of  the  girl's  harid.  That  she  was  excited,  could  be 
seen  ;  for  the  lingers  that  tore  open  the  one  addressed  to 
lierself  trembled  perceptibly.  As  she  read  it,  she  uttered 
ii  sharp  cry — a  cry  of  bitter  disap})ointment  and  mortifica- 
tion. Gone  and  left  her  !  never  to  return,  in  all  likeli- 
hood !  Wiis  this  what  she  had  plotted  ant!  j)lanned  for — 
was  this  the  way  she  was  to  turn  him  against  Eve,  and 
keep  him  at  her  own  side — was  this  the  end  of  all  lier 
schemes  ?  Surely  her  cunning  had  overshot  the  mark, 
and  she  had  been  foiled  with  her  own  weapons. 

"  (lone  !  "  she  cried  out ;  "  where  did  he  go  ?  Some  of 
the  servanis  must  have  seen  him  !     "Slary " 

]5ut  the  address  was  interrupted  by  another  cry,  more 
startled  than  her  own,  and  Eve  was  by  her  side. 

'MJone!"  she  echoed,  her  lips  ])ale,  Ik^'  eyes  wild. 
*'  Clone,  ]\liss  Forest !  l)o  you  mean  to  say  that  Mr. 
D'Arville  has  left  Hazclwood  ?" 

Una  Forest  turned  upon  her  like  a  tigress,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing blue  flame,  her  whole  face  livid  with  suppressed  pas- 
lie  hii.s  gone!  Tie  has  left  IFazelwood  forever,  ami  it 
is  you  who  have  driven  him  from  it  !  You,  you  wicked, 
ou  shameless,  you  disgraceful  creature  !  He  has  gone, 
lating,  despising,  abhorring  you,  as  we  all  do  now.  Don't 
look  at  me  so,  you  vile  girl  !  with  your  miserable  white 
face  !     Go  to  the  man  you  met  by  night  in  the  grounds ; 


sion. 


I 


I 


A  STORMY  DAY. 


^77 


of 


[votie, 

i)01l't 

•liito 
I  lids ; 


igjo  to   Paul  Scliaf  er  now,  and  exnlt  with  him  over  your 
work  ! " 

Eve  stood  motionless,  iiaraivzed,  dumb.  Marv  stood 
with  eyes  and  moutli  agape,  Jiazel  looked  u])  with  a  fright- 
ened face,  but  Una  Forest  liad  lost  the  self-control  of  a 
life  in  an  instant,  the  tide  of  passion,  so  sehlom  moved  in 
that  stagnant  breast,  all  the  more  powerful  for  that  very 
reason,  swept  everything  before  its  resistless  force.  Five 
minutes  later,  she  might  be  lier  own  calm,  ladylike,  coldly- 
severe  self  again  ;  now  she  was  mad — mad  with  rage, 
jealousy,  and  disa})pointment.  Now  she  must  speak  or 
die. 

"  You  ! ''  she  half-sereamed,  *'  you  wretclied,  dependent, 
nameless  thing — living  on  tlie  bounty  of  strangers — you, 
a  miserable  beggar,  for  all  your  airs  and  graces — you, 
iower  than  the  servants  who  wait  on  you,  for  they  arc 
honest,  at  least — you,  with  no  right  to  tlie  name  you  liave 
disgraced,  whose  mother  was  a  wretched  street-walker  of 
New  York — you,  who,  springing  from  the  lilth  and  scum 
of  the  city  streets,  dare  to  reign  hei'e  like  a  queen,  and  yet 
show  the  scum  and  dregs  you  spring  from,  by  night  and 
by  stealth,  it  is  you,  you,  who  have  driven  him  fro»n  tho 
house,  to  which  he  liad  far  more  right  tlnm  yourself,  in 
which  you  never  were  wanted,  from  which  you  should  havo 
been  sent  long  ago  to  earn  your  living,  like  any  other 
pauper.  I  tell  you,  girl,  I  hute  and  des})ise  you,  and  shall 
never  rest  until  vou  are  turned  from  the  house  you  have 
disgraced  ;  and  then  let  the  nnin  you  met  by  stealth  pro- 
tect you,  or  else  follow  your  vile  outcast  mother's  exam- 
ple, and *' 

But  she  did  not  finish  I  There  had  been  one  wild  shriek 
from  Eve,  and  then  she  had  turned  and  lied  from  the  room, 
from  the  house,  like  a  mad  creature.  Mad  !  for  the  time 
being  she  was  so — the  terribU^  words  of  Una  Forest  were 
ringing  in  her  cars  like  death-knells,  seared  on  her  bniiu 
in  letters  of  lire.  She  was  conscious  of  nothing,  only  one 
wild,  frantic,  delirious  idea  of  Hying  very  tVr  away,  any- 
where— anywhere  out  of  the  reach  of  that  serpent -tongue. 
She  knew  not  where  she  was  going,  what  she  wns  doing, 
only  that  they  had  driven  her  wild. 

And  so  shelled  on.  A'ight  was  falling  fast,  a  drenching 
rain  with  it,  and  everything  was  blurrcMl  in  a  mist  of  sud- 
den fog.     Tlcviven  and  earth  were  dark  alike,  but  she  saw 


178 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


m> 


not  tho  darkness  ;  lier  lioad  vas  bare,  her  long  iiair  flutter- 
ing in  the  niglit-wind,  but  slie  felt  no  eokl,  Jieeded  not  the 
soaking  rain.  Stumbling,  slipping,  falling,  rising,  and 
flying  on  again,  that  frantic  flgure  rushed  through  the 
niixht  and  the  storm,  in  and  on,  and  over,  a  very  nnmiac, 
until  at  last  exhausted  nature  gave  way,  and  she  sunk 
dovni,  prone  on  her  face,  on  the  soaking  grass.  She  never 
tliought  where  she  was  ;  in  that  first  delirium  she  did  not 
(;are.  And  so  there,  with  the  dismal  night  falling,  with 
the  rain  drenching  her  through,  Eve  llazelwood,  who  had 
risen  that  morning  hai)])y,  loving,  and  beloved,  lay  at 
night  a  homeless,  friendless  outcast. 

Oh,  truly  has  it  been  said,    "  We  knew  not  w\at  a  day 
may  bring  forth." 


^  ' 


$ 


!ih 


lilt' 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


15LACK  MOXKS. 


Site  did  not  faint  ;  lying  there  prostrate,  with  the  rain 
Ideating  upon  her,  and  the  wind  fluttering  her  hair  and 
garments — she  was  yet  conscious.  Perhaps  it  was  that 
very  wind  and  rain,  cooling  her  burning  brow,  that  kept 
lier  so  ;  but  for  a  time  nature  was  so  completely  exhausted 
that  she  was  unable  to  move.  Then  slowly,  as  the  flrst 
nuid  excitement  and  delirium  died  out,  all  the  liorror  of 
her  situation  dawned  upon  her.  It  was  night — a  tempest 
was  raging,  she  was  friendless  and  homeless — without  where 
to  lay  her  head.  Must  she  stay  in  this  dreadful  place  ail 
night  ? — must  she  lie  here  and  die  ?  Oh,  if  death  would 
only  come  at  once  !  Eve  wished  for  it  then,  as  we  all  wish 
for  it  in  our  llrst  moments  of  sinful  des[)air.  What  is 
there  left  to  live  for  now  ?  AH  love — and  love  makes  up 
all  that  is  worth  living  for  to  some — had  faded  out  of  her 
life,  and  why  should  she  wish  to  drag  on  a  dreary  and  un- 
loved lifer  Ah!  Eve  could  not  remember  then,  in  her 
first  bitterness  of  despair,  that 

"  Thon»  is  n  love  that  never  fails 
WIkmj  earthly  lovps  tlocnv." 

Heaven  and  earth,  that  dismal  ni^^liL,  looked  black  alike. 
A  clock  struck  nine — the  clock   of  tho  village  church. 


a 


BLACK  MONKS. 


170 


of 

)C'St 

ei'G 
all 

uld 
ish 
is 
up 
her 
nu- 
ll er 


She  Avas  in  Monkswood,  then,  and  near  shelter,  if  she 
chose  to  ask  for  it.  She  rnised  herself  on  her  elbow, 
pu=;lied  back  the  dripping  masses  of  hair  from  her  face, 
jind  looked  round.  liights  twinkled  in  the  distance — 
stars  of  hope — from  the  cottage  windows. 

Kve  was  well  known  in  Monkswood.  She  h;id  been  good 
to  more  than  one  poor  sufferer  there  ;  her  bright  face  Iiad 
made  sunshine  in  many  a  poor  homo  ;  her  sweet  voice  had 
whispered  hope  in  many  a  sorrowful  ear  ;  her  princely 
hand  and  heart  had  shared  with  them  the  last  farthing 
she  possessed.  Yes,  she  could  not  die  on  the  roadside  this 
territjle  night  ;  she  would  go  to  some  of  these  humble 
homes  until  to-morrow  should  come,  and  then  she  Vv'ould 
lly — she  knew  not  whither,  cared  not,  either,  so  that  it 
was  far  from  llazelwood. 

Faint,  dizzy,  staggering,  the  girl  rose  uj)  and  toiled 
slowly  on  through  tlic  darkness  and  the  rain.  N(jw  that 
the  feverish  excitement  had  passed  away,  the  false  strength 
it  had  lent  her  had  gone  with  it,  and  she  was  so  weak  she 
could  hardly  totter.  She  had  eaten  nothing  since  early 
morning,  and  at  the  first  cottage  she  canu'  to,  she  dro})ped 
down  on  the  door-step,  feeling  that,  if  her  life  depended 
on  it,  she  could  not  go  one  more  step. 

It  was  a  poor  place,  this  cottage,  with  thin  doors  and 
curtaiidess  windows.  Eve  could  hear  voices  within,  and 
one — the  voice  of  a  man — had  a  !^,trangely-familiar  sound. 
She  tried  to  think  who  it  was,  but  hvv  head  felt  all  wrong 
and  confused — memory  would  not  cmuic  to  her  aid.  She 
rose  up  again,  resolved  to  see,  before  she  asked  for  shelter  ; 
it  migiit  be  one  of  those  cruel  enemies  siie  had  h'ft,  foraU 
she  could  tell.  The  little  window  w;is  uncurtained,  the 
room  bright  with  lire  aiul  candle-light — as  humble  within 
as  without,  too;  but  Kve  saw  nothing  of  that — her  eyes 
were  fixed  on  its  three  occupants.  Surelv,  that  old  v.-onuui 
on  the  stool  in  front  uf  the  lii'o  had  a  strang(dy-fami!iar 
face.  Where  had  she  seen  her  before  ?  And  tluit  man — ■ 
that  tall  gentleman  wearing  that  well-known  cloak,  must 
be  Senor  ^lendez,  lier  Cuban  friend.  And  that  third  face 
— [di  !  what  sight  of  horror  was  tliat  :  her  own  face  looking 
straight  l)ack  at  her — her  own  hicv.  as  she  saw  it  evry  day 
in  tlie  glass.  I'liere  was  ti  shrill  shriek  of  alfright,  a 
lieavy  fall,  and  Eve  llazelwood  had  fainted  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  ! 


'''m 


1 80 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


lu 


m 


m^' 


:t! 


k 


III 


^ 


in 


AVhat  a  strangely  coiifased  and  bewildered  feeling  is  the 
return  of  conscionsiiess  after  a  swoon.  Gentlemen,  2)er- 
ln4)s,  not  being  of  tlie  fainting  sex,  know  very  little  about 
it  ;  but  tlieir  sister-sufferers,  being  used  to  it,  know  tlio 
dizzy,  disagreeable,  distressed  sense  of  vague  bewilderment 
with  wliicli  life  and  recollection  come  back.  Everything 
looks  unusual  ;  the  most  familiar  objects  unfamiliar ; 
voices  at  our  ear  sound  afar  off,  and  the  well-known  home 
faces  strange  and  visionary  like  the  rest.  But  when  the 
fainter  come  to  in  a  stninge  room,  where  everything  is 
really  unfamiliar — furniture,  faces,  voices  and  all — then 
she  is,  indeed,  an  object  of  pity. 

It  was  Eve's  case,  as  she  rose  up  and  looked  round  her. 
What  large  room  was  this,  with  its  strange,  anti(|ue  furni- 
ture, its  black  oil-paintings,  its  wood  iire  burning  on  a 
marble  hearth,  its  tall  wax  candles  flaring  on  an  inlaid 
table,  its  huge  tented  bedstead  looking  like  a  house  ? 
AVho  were  these  three  ^nll  men  looking  at  her,  one  of  tbc«ii 
yitting  beside  her  holding  her  wrist  ?  and  Avho  was  ^ilf^ 
elderly  lady  in  black  dress  and  snow-white  cap,  waWh- 
ing  her  with  such  kind,  compassionate  eyes  ?  AVhat  had 
iiappened,  and  where  could  she  be  ?  She  moaned  out 
something  vaguely  to  that  effect,  as  she  passed  hor  hand 
over  her  forehead  piteously,  trying,  i)oor  child,  to  clear 
her  mental  vision. 

*'x\ll  right  now,"  said  the  gentlennm  holding  lier  wrist, 
dropping  it  and  putting  a  glass  to  her  lips  ;  ''  I  said  you 
would  come  to  presently  !  Drink  this,  my  dear,  and  you 
will  be  as  well  as  ever.'' 

Eve  drank  as  submissively  as  a  little  chihl.  It  was  port 
■wine,  and  helped  her  at  once.  She  looked  again  at  the 
man  beside  her,  with  new-born  resignation  in  her  great 
bright  eye. 

"Are  you,  Mr.  Holmes  ?'*  she  asked. 

"Of  course,  I  am,  my  dear  IVEiss  liazelwood,"  answered 
the  vilhige-surgeon.  "How  do  you  feel  now  ?  Like  a 
giant  refreshed — eh  ?  '' 

"  I  feel  blotter,  thank  you,"  very  faintly  ;  "  though  please 
to  tell  me  where  I  am  ?  " 

"In  a  very  nice  phace,  Miss  Eve,  151ack  Monk's  Priory." 

"  lUack  lAionk's  !     Why— how— ~" 

"  'i'liere,  don't  get  fidgety  now.  Vou  fainte^l,  you  know, 
and  we  found  you  as  (.lead  as  a  door-nail ;   carried  you  off 


BLACK  MONKS. 


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here,  and  brouL^ht  you  to  life  again.  Furfiirtlicr  explana- 
tion, 1  must  refer  you  to  tliis  gentleman  here. '* 

Tlie  gentleman  thus  evoked  stepped  forward  and  bent 
over  her.  Eve  grasped  his  hand  witli  ji  glad  cry — it  was 
good  to  see  that  familiar  face,  wliere  all  was  so  strange  and 
new. 

"  Senor  Mendez,"  she  cried  out,  holding  his  kind  hands. 
'*  Oh,  I  am  glad  you  are  here." 

''  ^Fy  own'little  Eve  !  "  he  said,  a  little  huskily,  ''  thank 
Heaven,  you  are  conscious  again.  You  feel  better  do  you 
not  ? '' 

*'  Oh,  yes  I  but  I  want  to  know  how  I  came  here  !  When 
did  I  faint,  and  what  made  me  ?  " 

Senor  ^lendez  turned  to  the  third  gentleman  still  in  the 
backgrouml  : 

"  My  lord,  if  you  and  .Nfr.  Holmes  will  kindly  leave  me 
alone  with  Miss  llazelwood,  for  a  few  moments,  I  will  give 
her  all  the  explanation  she  rerpiires.  It  will  be  bettor  for 
her  to  know  at  once  than  work  herself  into  a  fever  with 
wondering." 

"  or  eourpc."  said  Lord  Landsdowne,  coui-teously,  '"  for 
as  many  minutes  as  you  please.     Mrs.  Roberts  ?  " 

Mrs.  Koberts,  who  was  the  honsekee})er  at  Uhick  Monks, 
obeyed  the  hint,  and  followed  his  lordship  and  the  ])hysi- 
cian  out  of  the  room.  Senor  AFendez  took  the  chair  be- 
side her,  a!id  looked  into  her  great  dark  eyes,  fixed  so 
wistfully  upon  him,  with  a  smile.  '^Fhere  w;is  something 
so  infinitely  kind  and  genial  in  his  face,  something  so  ])ro- 
tecting  and  reassuring  iji  his  smile,  that  Eve's  heart  went 
out  to  him  in  a  great  cry  : 

"'  Oh  senor  I  what  does  it  all  mean  ?  Am  I  going  mad? 
Will  you  turn  against  me,  too?" 

*' My  dear  child  I  turn  against   you  I  why   should  I  ?" 

*'  Oh,  1  don't  know  !  I  have  not  done  anything  that  I 
know  of,  but  they  all  have  tui-ned  from  nie — they  all  halo 
me  now  I  1  have  no  friend  left  in  all  the  wide  world,  I 
think!" 

''  Not  even  me,  Eve  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  earnestly,  longingly  ;  truth,  honor, 
manliness,  frieiuUiness — nuy,  love,  shono  in  thosi;  deep 
dark  eyes,  in  that  gentle  smile,  i)i  thai  lemler  handclas}). 
Yes,  Eve  had  one  friend  left  I  ller  face  told  him  so,  and 
his  pleasant  smile  deepened. 


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THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


*'  Tliank  you,  my  little  girl,"  he  said,  as  if  she  had 
spoken.  "  You  are  not  quite  deserted  yet  I  And  now 
toll  nie  what  they  liave  been  doing  to  you  at  Ilazelwood — 
1  think  I  half  guess,  though." 

*'  I  can't  tell  you  what  they  have  been  doing  to  mo — 
oidy  that  they  have  all  turned  against  me,  and  Miss 
Forest — oh,"  Eve  cried,  passionately,  "how  shall  lever 
forget  the  dreadful  things  she  said  ?" 

"  Humph  I  it  was  ^liss  Forest  then,  the  little  sleek, 
shari)-ela\ved  cat !     What  did  slie  say  to  you,  Eve  ?" 

''Dreadful  things,  senor,  and  ITazel  told  mo,"  with  a 
choking  sob,  ''  that  she  hated  me  I  " 

''The  deuce  she  did  I  But  Miss  Forest,  what  did  she 
say  ?  " 

"  Senor,  she  said  that  I — that  I — oh,  I  can't  tell  you," 
cried  Eve,  suddenly,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
but  not  before  he  saw  that  sensitive  face  turn  scarlet. 

"  Yes,  you  can,  Eve  ;  remember  I  am  your  only  friend  ! 
Tell  me  all  !  She  said  you  did  something  very  shocking, 
1  sup{)ose  I     She  said  you " 

"  Senor,  that  1  met  ]\lonsieur  SchafTer  in  the  grounds 
by  night,  and  by  stealth,  and  that  she,  and  Hazel,  and 
Monsieur  D'Arville  sa\v  me  with  him  there  I  '" 

Senor  ^Mcndez  gave  a  long,  low  wlnstle. 

"  Whew  !  the  little  liar  !  and  what  did  llazol  say  ?  " 

"  That  she  hated  me,  and  that  I  was  a  wicked,  treacher- 
ous, deceitful  creature  I  " 

"  Forcible  language,  npon  my  word  !  These  little 
female  angels,  h(nv(;ver,  have  the  devil's  own  tongue. 
And  Monsieur  D'Arville — surely,  he  denied  it  !" 

'*  Senor,"  Eve  said,  her  voice  trembling  pitiably,  '*'  ho 
has  gone  away  I '' 

*'  (rone  !  where  ?" 

"To  London,  and  is  coming  back  no  more."  And  here 
Eve's  courage  all  failed,  and  lior  voice  was  lost  in  a  tem- 
pe^^t  of  sobs.  The  Cuban  planter  looked  at  her  pity- 
ingly. 

'•  My  poor  Eve  I  they  have  been  conspiring  up  there,  I 
see  !     \V  hen  did  all  this  take  place  ?  " 

'•This  morning,  at  breakfast,  senor,  Mi«s  Forest  com- 
menced. 1  did  not  see  her  all  day,  or  Hazel  either  ;  but 
when  I  went  down  to  dinner.  Monsieur  D'Arville's  letter, 
telling  of  his  departure,  was  brought  her,  rvd  I  think  it 


I  . 


BLACK  MONKS. 


183 


tilings, 


set  her  wild  I     It   was   then   she  said    all    those   terriblo 
until  she  nearly  drove  mo  mud." 

"  And  yon  rushed  out  into  the  storm  just  as  you  were, 
and  ran  until  you  could  run  no  longer,  I  suppose  ?^' 

*'Yes,  senor !  And,  oh,  I  don't  know  at  all  what  it 
means,  for  I  never  left  my  room  last  night." 

''Oh,  you  need  not  tell  me  that  I  I  quite  understaml, 
and  so  docs  pretty  ^Fiss  Forest,  that  you  never  set  foot  in 
the  grounds  with  Paul  Schafler  !  Was  that  all  she  said  to 
you  ?  " 

"No,  senor — she  spoke  of  my  mother,  of  my  dead 
mother,  whom  I  never  know,  and  said  things  of  her  too 
frighful  to  repeat."' 

''The  little  ,"  Senor  Mendez  ground  out  tlio  rest 

between  his  mustache,  "said  she  Avas  no  better  than  she 
oughr  to  be,  J  sup[)()so.  Eve  ?  " 

Eve  hid  Jier  face,  liushed  again.  But  she  was  pouring 
out  her  whole  heart  to  this  man,  and  could  not  help  it. 

"She  said  I  had  no  right  there — no  right  even  to  the 
name  I  bore." 

"  fndeed  I  Much  she  knows  about  it  I  Did  she  say 
anvthino:  of  vour  father  ?  " 

"  Xo,  senor,  she  never  spoke  of  him,  but,"  Eve  cried, 
struck  by  something  in  his  face,  "  perhaps  you  knew  him, 
senor  I     Oh,  if  vou  tlo '' 

"There  I  tliere  I  don't  get  into  a  fright  now  I  I  did 
know  your  fatlier  when  a  young  man,  but  never  mucli 
good  of  him.  He  was  a  young  scamp,  and  the  less  you 
know  about  him  the  better." 

Poor  Eve  !  there  was  no  ray  of  hope  for  her  anywhere. 
Her  eager  face  saddened  and  darkened  airain. 

"  Then  perhaps  it  was  all  true  that  Miss  Forest 
said  ! " 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!  Your  motlier  was  a  bud  woman. 
Oh,  don't  start !  I  knew  all  about  her,  too  ;  but  she  was 
your  fathers's  wife,  as  fast  as  a  minister,  and  a  marriage- 
ceremony,  and  a  wedding-ring  could  make  lier.  In  fact, 
tliov  were  a  Itad  lot,  both  of  them  ;  and  the  less  vou  find 
out  about  them  the  better  for  your  peace  of  mind.  WJiere 
ignorance  is  bliss,  and  so  on,  you  know  !  " 

There  was  a  table  near.  Eve  laid  her  arms  wearily  upon 
it,  and  dropped  her  poor  sad  face  thereon,  not  to  let  him 
see  the  tears  that  were  raining  down. 


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THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


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A  l^and  was  liiid  on  tlie  bowed  young  liead,  with  a  touch 
as  teatlcr  as  a  woman's. 

*'  Dear  child  !  don't  cry  ;  it  will  all  come  right  after 
awhile,  believe  me.  Tliere  is  a  destiny  in  these  things, 
and  that  destiny  is  in  the  hands  of  One  as  merciful  as  He 
is  mighty.  Every  cloud  has  its  silver  lining,  my  Eve. 
You  will  see  yours  glittering  through  tiie  darkness 
ye^  !  " 

Eve  turjied  and  touched  her  lips  to  the  caressing  hand, 
but  her  voice  was  too  choked  to  speak. 

'S\nd  for  whom  were  tliose  tears,  Eve  ?  Sacred  to  the 
memory  of  an  unworthy  father  and  mother,  or  a  false 
lover." 

''  lie  is  not  false,"  Eve  said,  sobbing,  '^  but  he  believes 
me  guilty,  and  has  gone  forever." 

"  Let  him  go,  then  !  One  so  easily  deluded,  with  so 
little  faith  in  you,  i.s  not  Avorthy  of  a  sigh.  Cheer  up, 
Ya'o,  !  send  Una  Eor'.\sl  and  Claude  IVArville  an  (li((ble, 
aud  be  hai)i)y  in  spite  of  them.  I  am  going  now  ;  it  is 
getting  late  I  but  1  will  be  back  again  early  to-morrow 
morning.     And  so,  niy  baby,  good  night  I  " 

What  a  strange  man  he  was  I  But  Eve  liked  him  and 
his  hearty,  fatlicrly  nninner  ;  and  once  alone  dro]i)ped 
^vhere  she  sat  into  the  heavy  slumber  of  exhaustion,  and 
never  woke  till  morning. 

The  red  sunrise  was  slanting  rosy  rays  through  the 
curtains  whenslie  opened  her  black  eyes  in  this  mortal  life 
again,  a  little  stiff  and  tired  from  her  uncomfortable  posi- 
tion, but  thoroughly  refreslied,  and  her  own  bright-eyed, 
clear-headed  self  again.  But  at  her  heart  the  dull  ])ain 
still  ached,  heavy  as  lead  it  still  lay  in  her  bosom  ;  no  sleep 
could  ever  chase  away  the  aching  there. 

She  drew  back  the  curtain  from  the  window  and  looked 
out.  Every  cloud  had  gone,  tlie  sun  was  shining  in  a  sky 
as  blue  and  cloudless  as — Una  Forest's  eyes  !  Ear  below 
she  could  see  the  village  of  Monkswood  ;  the  smoke  curl- 
ing up  from  the  cottage  chimneys,  and  the  farms  out  over 
the  road.  Right  below  her  was  a  rose-garden,  hot  with 
scarlet  bloom,  and  the  birds  v/ere  piercing  the  air  with 
their  matin  hymns. 

It  was  all  very  charming  and  Black  Plonk's  was  a  delight- 
ful place,  but  how  came  she  in  it  ?  She  remejubered  now 
she  had  not  found  that  out  last  night ;  she  remembered. 


^1 


BLACK  MONKS. 


185 


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too,  witli  a  thrill,  the  face  so  awfully  like  her  own,  and 
s!io  knew  it  was  that  made  lier  faint. 

She  must  wait  now,  slie  knew,  till  Senor  Mendez  eame, 
to  lind  out  everything  ;  so  she  bathed  her  face,  bru.slied 
out  her  tani^led  curls,  said  her  prayers — a  little  more  fer- 
vently than  usual,  perhaps — and  then  sat  down  hy  tho 
window  to  wait  and  tiiink. 

A  clock,  somewhere  in  the  house,  struck  lou<lIy  ten.  As 
its  last  echo  died  away,  there  v/as  a  knock  at  her  door,  and 
the  "Id  housekeeper  entered. 

"Oh,  you  are  up  !  "  slie  said,  looking  ple.ised  ;  *' and 
iiot  quite  so  much  like  a  corjjse  as  you  were  last  night! 
Do  you  feel  better  ?  " 

"  Very  mucli  better,  thank  you." 

"  Will  you  have  breakfast  here,  or  will  you  come  down  ? 
My  lord  sent  me  up  to  see." 

'*  I  will  go  down,"  Eve  said,  in  some  tre])idation.  "  Who 
is — is  any  one  there  ?  " 

'*Only  his  lordship.  ]\ry  lady  won't  be  back  for  a 
week." 

"  Is  she  away,  then  ?"  Eve  said,  very  much  relieved  ;  for 
she  instinctively  disliked  the  supercilious,  handsome  J^ady 
Landsdowne. 

"  Yes,  miss  ;  she  started  for  London  yesterday  morning. 
This  is  the  breaklast-parlor." 

They  had  Ijeen  walking  through  a  long  hall,  aiul  down 
a  irroat  llisrht  of  stairs  while  conversiuii,  and  soon  the  old 
hid}  'opened  a  door  and  ushered  Eve  into  a  large  and 
hanosomely-furnished  parlor,  where  Lord  Landsdowno 
and  a  well-spread  breakfast  table  were  alone,  lie  ad- 
vanced to  meet  her  with  extended  hand. 

"lam  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  much  better,  ]Mis3 
Ilazelwood  !  I  trust  you  rested  well  last  night." 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord, "said  Eve,  finding  the  title  rather 
odd  to  her  American  tongue.  "  1  did.  1  feel  as  well  as  ever 
this  mornini''." 

"That  is  right.  We  are  to  have  a  tvte-a-tetr  breakfast, 
I  find,  this  morning.  Lady  Landsdowne  is  in  London, 
and  8enor  Mendez  declined  my  invitation  to  breakfast. 
Pray  be  seated." 

li' Eve  luid  never  known  ]>efore  that  wealth  and  rank  do 
not  constitute  hap[)iness,  she  might  have  found  it  out  that 
morning  by  looking  at  Lord  Landsdowne's  face.     It  vras 


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the  fiicc  of  a  maddened  und  disappointed  man,  of  one  wlio 
lias  made  soiiic  <j:roal  life-mistake.  Yet  it  was  kindly  too  : 
tliough  he  r.arely  smiled,  its  deep  gravity  was  gentle  ;  its 
melancholy  patient.  I'^ve  felt  sorry  for  him  somehow, 
■without  very  well  knowing  why,  and  disliked  the  absent 
Lady  Landsdowne  more  than  ever. 

During  breakfast  they  talked  of  the  weather,  of  yester- 
day's storm,  and  of  Blank  Monk's. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  it  ?  "  he  asked  her,  as  they  arose. 
"  It  is  rather  a  gloomy  old  place,  and  considerablv  out  of 
repair,  but  s-till  worth  looking  at.  I  Avill  be  your  cicerone, 
if  you  like.  No  one  can  do  the  honors  of  Black  Monk's 
but  a  L'liidsdowue.'' 

So  t'lK-y  went  through  it — up  and  down  grand  old  oaken 
staircases — through  dark  suites  of  ])ainted  rooms,  through 
wainscoted  halls,  initil  Eve  was  tired  out.  It  was  a  gloomy 
place,  gloomier  tlum  ITazelwood  even,  all  but  one  suite  of 
rooms.  'l'h(  y  wer(!  my  lady's  ;  everything  antique  had 
been  removed  ;  everything  modern,  elegant  and  costly  was 
there.  Eve  had  ncvtr  seen  anvthing  so  beautiful  before  : 
but  she  looked  in  vain  for  one  thi ug — a  portrait  of  their 
owner. 

'•  Is  Eady  Landsdowne's  picture  not  there  ?"  she  asked 
at  length,  curiously;  "I  have  not  seen  it  anywhere  in 
the  I'ouse." 

*']S'o  ;  she  never  had  a  pictnre  taken- — it  is  one  of  her 
whims  ;  not  even  a  pliotogi'a]>li.  And  now,  if  you  are  not 
too  tired,  will  yc.u  take  a  stroll  through  the  grounds  ?  Tlio 
fresh  air  will  do  you  good,  after  these  damp  and  dreary 
old  rooms." 

"llinc:  to  leave  the  gloomy  house  for  the 


'T 


bright  sunshine  and  blessed  breeze  out  of  doors  ;  so,  with 
only  a  handkerchief  thrown  over  her  head,  she  went  out 
with  him  into  the  grounds.  Spacious  they  were  ;  roseries, 
graperies,  deer]iarks,  long  avenues  of  stately  trees,  thickly 
wooded  shrnl)beri''S,  ev(rvthing  old  and  grand,  but  some- 
liow  the  same  show  of  gloom  iiud  solitude  reigned  without 
as  within.  Kve  admire(l  and  praised  all,  as  she  could  not 
help  doinir.  but  she  turned  away  witli  a  feeling  of  relief  to 
Senor  ^lendez,  gallopnig  up  the  avenue.  He  jumped  off 
Ids  horse,  and  raised  his  luit. 

*'  Allah  he  praised  !  the  dead  is  alive  again.     I  see  quite 
another  girl  to  the  ghost  of  last  night.      ■My  lord,  was  it 

I 


BLACK  MONKS. 


187 


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coffee  or  the  elixir  of  life  yon  gave  ^liss  Ilazehvood  at  break- 
fast this  morning  ?'^ 

Lord  Landsdowne  smiled  as  be  turned  to  go. 

''I  shall  leave  ^liss  Ilazehvood  herself  to  answer  that 
question.     Aic  rcroir." 

"  Here's  a  bench,"  said  Senor  Mendez  ;   ^'  and  you  look 
tired,  I  think.     Sit  down  and  tell  me  liow  you  feel.'' 

Eve  lifted  her  melancholy,  dark   eyes  to  his  face  for  a 
moment,  and  then  dropped  them  again. 

*'0]i,  I  see  !     y^\'y  lonely,  and  dreary,  aiul  sad  ! 
do  you  like  Lord  Landsdcwne  ?  " 

*'  Very  much.'' 

'^And  my  lady  ?" 


How 


?.' 


'*  She  is  away.' 

^'^  Oh,  true  ;  I  had  forgotten.     And  the  place  ?" 

"  It  is  a  very  line  old  place  ;  but,  oh,  so  desolate  and 
gloomy  !  Even  the  sunsliine  does  not  seem  to  brighten 
iti"  ^ 

^^  Sunshine  I  TIow  can  sunshine  brighten  a  place  like 
this — a  place  tliat  is  accursed  ?  " 

''  Senor  ! ''  Eve  cried,  startled  l)y  the  strong  word. 

"  I  repeat  it — accui'sed  ■  If  ever  a  curse  rested  any- 
where on  earth,  it  does  on  Black  Monk's  I  Can  you  iiot 
see  it  in  its  master's  face  ?  " 

*'  You  never  mean  to  say,"  said  Eve,  still  more  startled, 
"that  it  is  luuuited  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do  ;  and  l)y  an  incarnate  imp  of  tlio  Evd  One 
himself  I  liut  don't  look  so  wliite  about  it,  if  you  v.iu\  help 
it.  I  don't  know  as  this  spirit  of  darkness  has  any  power 
or  any  will  to  injure  you." 

*'  I'm  not  going  to  remain  here  to  tempt  it,"  said  Eve, 
tartly  ;  •'  I  am  going  away." 

"  ()h,  are  you  ?     Where  to,  pray  ?  " 

"  Anywliere — anywhere  that  lean  earn  a  living.  I  will 
never  go  l>ii('k  to  Hazel  wood  again." 

''  ]\[y  dear  girl,  don't  nuiko  any  rash  ])romisos.  Where 
do  you  wish  to  go  to — l)ack  to  Canada  ?  " 

**'0h,  no!  not  thei'c— not  even  to  Xe.v  York.  I  want 
to  go  to  London.     \o  one  knows  me  tiu're." 

''And  what  will  von  do  when  vou  ijet  to  London  ?" 

''Anything  I  He  a  governess,  a  school-teacher,  a  st>am- 
stress,  a  housemaid,  or  anything  by  which  1  can  earn  u 
living." 


f 


1 88 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


U   i 


f  * 


]'.! 


■1      I 


Her  eyes  Avere  flasliing — her  cheeks  glowing — her  voice 
ringing — but  the  plilegmatic  gentleman  beside  her  caught 
none  of  hor  excitement. 

"A  very  laudible  design,  indeed,  but  don't  be  in  a 
hurry.  Suppose  you  wait  until  Lady  Landsdowne  comes 
home  ?  Tlieso  great  ladies  always  want  a  companion,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  and " 

"i  wouldn't  stay  if  she  did  !  I  don't  like  this  place, 
and  I  don't  like  Lady  Landsdowne.  I  want  to  go  far  from 
here." 

"  Oh,  that's  the  way  of  it,  is  it  ?  AVell,  she  may  know 
some  other  great  lady  in  Brlgravia  who  wants  a  companiou 
or  a  governess,  and  may  get  you  tlie  situation.  Take  my 
advice,  and  wait  till  she  comes  ;  there  are  worse  places  to 
stop  in  than  Jihxck  Monk's." 

"  llow  did  I  ever  come  here  :  "  asked  Eve.  '^  I  remem- 
ber seeing  you  through  tlie  cottage-window  tliat  dreadful 
night,  and  that  is  all.     How  did  1  get  liere  ?  " 

'-  I  heard  you  scream  and  fall,  and  so  did  another  gen- 
tleman, driving  home  in  his  carriage.  It  was  Lord  Lands- 
downe, and  he  stopped  to  find  out  the  matter  ;  and,  when 
we  recognized  the  young  lady,  he  insisted  on  putting  her 
into  the  carriage  and  driving  her  home.  You  under- 
stand ?  " 

'*  Yes  ;  and  what  cottage  was  that  yon  were  in,  and  who 
■were  the  two  women  ?  " 

"  AVHuit  a  pretty  inquisitor  it  is  !  The  two  women  were 
grandmother  and  granddaughter,  and  I  went  in  out  of  the 
ram." 

''  Sonor  ^lendez,  I  want  to  see  that  girl  again.  I  thought 
it  was  my  own  face  looking  at  me  over  the  fire.  We  must 
look  exactly  alike." 

8enor  Mcndez  looked  at  her  as  if   struck  by  a  new  idea. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  now  you  mention  it,  I  do  think  there  is  a 
slight  resemblance.  Rose — I  tiiink  I  heard  the  old  lady 
call  her  Rose — Rose  has  black  eyes  and  curls,  and  is  about 
your  height ;  but  sbe  is  browner  in  the  skin,  and  has  redder 
cheeks,  and  not  so  much  to  say  !  And  now  I  must  leave 
you  for  awhile.     I  am  going  to  Hazel  wood." 

*'To   Hazel  wood  !" 

"  Don't  faint  I  I  won't  tell  them  you  are  here  !  I  want 
to  see  what  they  are  al)out  over  there,  and  won't  say  a  word 
about  you.     (lood-by  for  awhile.     Don't  excite  yourself. 


THE  CLOUD. 


189 


Wait  till  my  lady  comes  lionie.  It  will  be  in  n  few  days — 
and  who  knows  what  tlie  n])sliot  will  be  ?  Keep  np  a  good 
heart,  lieniember  what  I  said  before.  Every  clond  has 
its  silver  lining." 

"liul  the  lining  is  on  the  wrong  side,"  said  poor  Eve, 
wistfully  ;   "and  it  is  very  long  ami  dreary  to  wait." 

'*  Perhaps  you  won't,  have  so  long  to  wait — who  knows  ? 
Wait  anyway  until  iier  ladyshij)  comes  back,  and  we  will 
see  what  will  follow.     Wait,  Eve,  wait  and  see  ! "" 


}} 


M 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


who 

were 
^f  tho 

mght 
I  must 

idea. 

le  is  a 

lady 

libout 

idder 

1  leave 


want 

word 

irself. 


THE  CLOUD. 

There  come  to  all  of  us,  now  and  then,  days  that  seem 
endless.  We  get  up  and  sit  down,  and  yawn,  and  saunter 
wearily  about  and  the  long  dull  hours  drag  their  slow 
length  along,  each  one  a  lifetime  of  dreariness  in  itself. 
It  was  one  of  tliose  black-letter  days  to  Eve,  that  first  one 
in  Black  Plonk's — she  wandered  through  the  grounds, 
sauntered  in  and  out  of  the  house ;  tried  to  read,  and 
found  it  impossille  ;  and  all  the  time  unconsciously  to  her- 
self, she  was  listening  for  the  coming  of  some  one,  for  a 
voice,  for  a  step,  as  all  of  us  poor  creatures  have  listened 
at  some  period  of  our  lives.  In  vain,  too — that  is  the 
worst  of  it.  Eve  did  not  know  she  was  listening  for 
Claude  D'Arville  ;  but  she  was  starting  at  every  footstep, 
ner  foolish  heart  throbbing  and  then  sinking  back  with  a 
sickening  sense  of  disappointment,  and  still  her  pride 
would  not  let  her  own  to  herself  why. 

At  seven  she  and  Lord  Landsdowne  dined  in  solitary 
state.  His  day  deemed  to  have  been  little  more  agreeable 
than  her  own — he  looked  weary  and  dejected,  and  by  tacit 
consent  neither  talked  much. 

When  the  mute  perfornnince  was  ended,  Eve  went  out 
again  to  the  grounds,  tliinking  that  the  curse  of  ennui 
certainly  rested  heavilv  on  Hlack  Monk's,  if  none  worse 
did. 

The  sun  that  had  throbbed  all  day  like  a  heart  of  fire  in 
the  blue  vault  above  was  dying  out  in  the  west.     Dying, 


1  I 


; 


i 
( 


I    !i      I 


190 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


too,  as  a  monarch  ought,  grandly  and  serenely,  wrapped  in 
rainbow-glory.  The  girl  was  standing  watching  it,  for- 
getting half  her  own  troubles  in  its  s])lendor,  wlien  a  step 
coming  near  made  lier  turn  round  with  the  same  flutter  at 
her  heart.  It  was  a  man,  a  young  man,  but  not  he  for 
whom  she  looked — a  very  different  person  indeed — none 
other  than  ^[r.  Paul  Schaffer.  He  came  up  to  her  rapidly 
and  excitedly. 

''  I\liss  llazclwood — Eve  !  have  I  found  you  at  last  ? 
AVhat  is  this  they  have  been  doing  to  you  at  Ifazelwood  ?  " 

Eve's  answer  was  ji  flash  of  her  black  eyes,  an  attempt 
to  pass,  but  he  stopped  her. 

•"^.No,  Miss  ILizelwood,  do  not  go.  You  must  iiot  leave 
me.  I  have  been  searching  for  you  all  day,  and  only  dis- 
covered half  an  hour  ago  that  you  M'cre  here." 

Eve  was  too  i)routl  to  struggle — she  drew  back,  and 
stood  leaning  against  a  tree,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
flaring  sunset. 

"  Eve,"  he  rei)eated,  still  excitedly,  ^^  what  is  this  they 
have  been  doing  to  yoi;  at  llazclwood  that  you  have  fled 
hero  ?     That  much,  at  least,  I  know." 

"  Ves,  I  am  sure  you  do  !  "  Eve  said,  frigidly. 

"I  went  there  this  morning,  and  heard  a  most  remark- 
able story.  In  fact,  I  was  met  by  Hazel  with  a  tempest  of 
tears  and  reproaches,  and  accused  of  having  met  yon  the 
night  before  last  in  the  grounds.  Miss  Forest  confirmed 
the  tale  with  the  hauteur  of  a  dowager  duchess  offended, 
and  informed  me  she  and  D'Arville  had  been  looking  on. 
Now,  ^tiss  llazclwood,  what  does  this  mean  ?" 

^'  Will  you  allow  me  to  pass,  Mr.  Schaffer  ?  "  was  Eve's 
cold  reply.  ''Simple  as  you  think  me,  I  am  not  deceived 
by  your  acting.  Whatever  plot  has  been  laid  for  me,  you, 
the  accomplice  of  Miss  Forest,  know  best."' 

**  Eve,  you  wrong  me  !  I  swear  you  do  !  I  love  you  too 
well  ever  to  enter  into  any  plot  against  your  hapi)iness  ! 
It's  all  a  mystery  to  me — no,  not  all — for  I  know  Miss 
Forest's  motive  for  hating  you  !" 

Eve  turned  her  large,  truthful  eyes  from  the  sunset  to 
the  man's  pale  and  excited  face. 

''For  Initing  me?  What  have  I  ever  done  that  she 
should  hate  me  ?  " 

"Tlie  jireatest   crime   one  woman  can   commit  against 


another.     You  liave  been  her  rival  ? 


}> 


THE   CLOUD. 


191 


V 


Eve'a 
jeived 

)u  too 

iincas  1 
Miss 

rsct  to 

I  at  slie 


tgainst 


"  Wlial  ?"      ^ 

"  Ilcr  rival.  Eve  !  Oh,  you  luive  been  blind  while  all 
tlie  rest  of  the  world  saw.  Una  Foro::it  loves  Claude 
D'Arville." 

Eve's  heart  gave  one  wild  bouiul,  and  then  seemed  to 
stand  still.  A  thousand  trillos  rushed  on  her  mind  to  con- 
firm the  storv.  She  knew  this  man  to  be  a  liar  :  but  ho 
spoke  the  trutli  now.  All  the  blood  in  her  body  seemed 
to  rush  into  her  face,  and  she  clasped  her  hands  over  its 
burning. 

''  Yes,  ^riss  Eve,  that  is  Una  Forest's  secret.  He  knows 
nothing  of  it,  any  more  than  you  did  ;  but  that  hidden 
passion  is  the  s[)ring  that  has  set  all  this  shameful  machin- 
ery at  work,  ller  aim  was  to  turn  him  against  you,  and 
she  has  succeeded — how.  [  do  not  know— tliough  it  seems 
she  has  involved  me  in  it.*' 

He  sto[)[)ed,  but  Eve  did  not  speak  ;  her  face  Avas  still 
buried  in  her  hands,  and  he  could  not  see  its  expression. 

''  It  proves  that  she  hates  you — it  proves  something  else, 
how  weak  and  contemptible  a  creature  this  D'Arville  is  I 
If  he  had  any  mind  of  his  own,  would  he  not  see  through 
a  woman's  poor  machinations  ?  If  he  had  any  real  love 
for  you,  would  ho,  at  the  first  word,  spurn  you  unseen  and 
unheard  and  shamefully  desert  you  without  one  word  ? 
Oh,  Eve  !  listen  to  me — I  love  you,  if  he  does  not  !  I 
believe  in  you,  if  he  has  no  faith  !  I  res[)ect  you,  if  h'i 
has  scorned  !  I  will  be  true,  if  he  has  deserted  you  !  Eet 
the  miserable  ex-schoolmaster  go,  Eve,  and  be  my  wife — 
my  beloved  and  honored  wife  !  I  can  give  you  a  hap[)y 
liome,  wealth,  friends,  position,  everything  :  he  can  give 
you  nothing  but  his  fickle  hcj'rt,  hisem[)t.y  brain  and  emp- 
tier pocket  I  Come  back  to  Canad:i,  Eve,  where  the 
friends  are  who  know  and  love  you,  and  forget  one  wlio 
can  so  easily  forget  you  I  "' 

lie  spoke  vehemently,  passionately,  *rying  to  take  her 
hand  ;  but  Eve  drew  back,  and  the  face  she  lifted  seemed 
to  have  turned  to  marble. 

"  Will  you  let  mo  pass,  ]\[onsiour  Schailer  ?  ^'  she  coldly 
said. 

*'Eve  I  Eve  !  have  you  no  heart  ?     AVill  you  not  h";u' 


nie 


p^' 


I      I. 


''  I  have  heard  you.     If  you  are  a  gentleman,  monsieur, 
you  will  let  me  pass." 


\' 


■i 


i:' 


t     t 


i'l 


Pin 


ii ,, 


61 


1;  .,     :  1:      « 


192 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


*'  Eve,  do  you  refuse  ?  Oli,  Eve,  you  know  I  love 
you  I  "  ho  cried  out,  distractedly. 

*'  I  have  refused  you  before — 1  refuse  you  a^ain  !  You 
are  plau,sil)le  enough,  but  I  know  you  of  old,  Monsieur 
Schaffer  ;  anil  if  you  were  to  kneel  down  and  swear  to  nio 
you  are  not  concerned  in  this  ])lot  against  nie,  I  would  not 
believe  you  I  I  scorn  vour  otfer  as  I  do  vourself,  and  I 
would  sooner  be  turned  out  to  stand  ajid  die  in  tiie  streets, 
than  to  become  your  wife.     Now  will  you  let  me  ])ass  ? '' 

"  xVnd  you  defy  me  like  this  ?  " 

"I  do  defy  you,  monsieur  I  You  thought,  I  know,  when 
you  had  brought  me  to  this,  made  me  homeless  and.  friend- 
less, that  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  come  to  any  terms. 
But  I  am  not  friendless,  monsieur,"  she  said  lifting  her 
head  to  the  radiant  sky,  her  face  aiul  voice  solemn  alike, 
*'the  Father  of  the  orphan  reigns  there,  and  my  trust  is 
in  llim.     ]\Ir.  SchalTer,  let  me  gol" 

"What  was  there  in  that  white  face,  in  those  solemn, 
earnest,  dark  eyes  that  awed  the  mau.  The  same  soul — 
that  one  spark  of  divinity  within  us  that  awes  the  tameless 
beasts  of  the  forest — looked  forth,  perhaps,  and  cowed 
him.  lie  drew  back,  his  own  face  livid  with  suppressed 
fury. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  ''  but  I  will  conquer  you  yet.  No  one 
ever  defied  Paul  Sehaffer  with  impunity ;  and  before 
another  sun  sets,  you  will  be  turned  out  of  Black  Monk's 
as  you  have  been  out  of  Hazel  wood  !  Then  we  will  see 
■what  kind  of  a  tramp  La  Pn'ucesse  will  make.  A  few 
days'  starvation  will  prove  a  wonderful  cure  for  these  fine 
airs  and  graces,  my  pretty  Eve  ! " 

Ikit  Eve  was  gone,  and  Mr.  Paul  Schaffer  Avalked  away, 
beaten  and  baffled.  He  had  counted  so  surely  on  his 
schemes  succeeding,  and  here  he  was  foiled  at  the  first 
turn,  lint  he  had  another  card  to  play  yet — the  game  was 
not  quite  ended. 

That  night,  a  letter  addressed  to  Lady  Landsdowne  was 
posted  in  the  little  post-ottice  of  Monks  wood.  It  was 
short,  pithy.,  and  anonyUiOUs  : 

''  My  Lady  Landsdowne  need  be  in  no  hurry  home. 
His  lordship  is  not  at  all  lonely  in  her  absence,  as  he  has 
a  younger  ami  even  prettier  lady  than  his  charming  wife 
for  company  in  the  dull  old  mansion.     The  young  person 


THE  SILVER    LINING 


193 


is  Miss  Eve  Hazel  woou,  of  Hazel  wood,  who,  for  sonic 
mysterious  reaso!i,  lias  left  tlie  latter  for  the  former  resi- 
dence. How  long  she  is  going  to  remain  is  also  unknown 
— probably  your  ladyship  niay  find  out  on  your  return — if 
both  birds,  in  the  mean  time,  do  not  t.ike  unto  themselves 
wings,  and  fly  away.  A  Fhiend.'' 


it 


:;  i 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


I  away, 
)u  Ilia 
first 
le  was 

le  was 

[t  was 


home. 


ihe 


has 
wife 


bersoii 


THE   SILVER   LINING. 

How  Eve  passed  that  night  she  best  knew.  Lord 
Landsdowne  did  not,  thougli  he  partly  guessed,  seeing  the 
white  face  and  sunken  eyes  across  the  breakfast-table  next 
morning.  Worst  of  all,  Sonor  jVIendez  and  lier  only  re- 
maining friend  now  came  not,  though  the  morning  was 
wearing  away  ;  and  she  stood  straining  her  eyes,  half  wild 
with  impatience,  watching  for  his  arrival.  Noon  came, 
and  brought  him  not;  the  sultry  afternoon  stole  on,  and 
still  he  was  absent.  Oh  !  was  he,  too,  turning  against 
her  !  Vv'^as  he,  too,  forgetting  and  deserting  her,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world  ?  No,  surely  this  was  he  at  last.  A  fly 
had  entered  the  gate,  and  was  driving  rapidly  up  the 
avenue.  Eve  started  forward  to  meet  it.  Alas  for  her 
hopes  !  it  was  a  fly  from  the  railway-station,  and  held  only 
a  lot  of  trunks  and  a  lady — the  sad,  haughty,  liandsome 
face  of  a  lady  she  had  seen  before,  and  instinctively  dis- 
trusted. It  was  Lady  Landsdowne  returned.  Eve  drew 
back  with  a  low  bow,  but  recoiled  at  the  fierce  bright 
glance  she  met  from  the  lady's  blue  eyes — a  glance  that, 
had  her  looks  been  lightning,  would  have  blasted  her 
where  she  stood.  The  next  moment  she  was  gone,  gather- 
ing up  her  silken  skirt  with  lier  gloved  fingers,  as  if  she 
feared  it  might  be  contaminated  by  the  slightest  contact 
with  the  other. 

'^  It  never  rains  but  it  pours."  Oh,  truest  of  all  true 
proverbs  !  Eve  stood  and  looked  after  her  with  a  strained 
and  bewildered  air.  What  had  she  done  now  to  incur  that 
fiery  glance  ?  Long  ago  she  had  heard  of  the  intense  and 
unreasonable  jealousy  of  Lady  Landsdowne,  but  it  never 
occurred  to  her  now.     ''  To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure." 


i    4 


194 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


\\U 


m 


il 


]^]ve  tlioiiglit  of  Gverytliing,  but  not  of  tliut,  until  at  last 
roused,  iudign;iiit  uiul  outraged,  she  turned  into  the  house 
■\vitli  a  brigli^ened  color  and  flannng  eye. 

'*  I  will  leave  tliis  instant — I  will  stay  no  longer  where 
I  am  not  wanted  I  Let  Senor  Mendcz  go.  He  has  for- 
saken nio,  like  all  thu  rest  ;  but  1  will  lie  down  on  the 
roaiisido  and  die  before  I  stay  to  be  treated  like  this  I  " 

She  ran  up-stairs,  and  was  crossing  the  hall  on  her  way 
to  the  room  she  occupied,  when,  tlirough  the  half-open 
door  of  the  library,  she  heard  a  loud  and  passionate  voice 
pronouncing  her  name.  Instinctively  she  stopjied — I 
think  the  best  of  us  would,  in  her  place — and  listened. 
The  library  was  the  room  in  which  tlie  lord  of  Black 
Monk's  spent  nearly  all  his  time,  but  he  was  not  the 
speaker.  This  raised  angry  voice  was  a  woman's — was  my 
lady's. 

"I  tell  you  I  will  speak  !"  she  was  passionately  crying 
out,  "  and  I  will  not  lower  my  voice.  Let  the  shameless 
creature  hear,  if  she  likes  ;  such  vile  wretches  care  little 
what  is  said  to  them.  But  you,  my  lord,  the  saint,  the 
paragon — I  have  found  you  out  at  last,  have  I  ?  This  is 
the  way  you  pass  the  time  when  I  am  absent  !  I  wish  Miss 
Eve  Hazel  wood  Joy  of  her  conquest  I " 

'•'  Lady  Landsdowne,"  the  calm,  low  voice  of  her  husband 
said,  •'  Iiave  you  gone  mad  ?  For  Heaven's  sake  lower  your 
voice,  or  you  will  have  every  servant  in  the  house  at  the 
door  in  five  minutes  !  " 

'^  Let  them  come  ! "  cried  the  excited  lady,  ''  I  want 
nothing  better  than  to  expose  the  pair  of  you  I  You're  the 
model  husband  forsooth  ! — so  kind,  so  indulgent,  so  faith- 
ful— the  admiration  of  all  the  weak-minded  female  fools  I 
know  !  But  I  have  found  you  out  in  time,  and  I  shall 
turn  that  miserable  girl  from  the  door  in  five  minutes,  and 
expose  her  to  the  whole  country." 

Lord  Landsdowne  rose  from  his  seat  and  crossed  the 
room  to  close  the  door,  when  the  sight  of  Eve,  standing 
there  like  a  stone,  made  him  start  back  as  if  he  had  seen 
a  ghost.  He  turned  scarlet  for  the  woman  who  could  not 
blush  for  herself. 

"  Miss  Hazel  wood,  you  here  !  Good  heavens  !  you  must 
have  heard  all  I" 

*'I  have,  my  lord,"'  Eve  said,  her  voice  sounding  even 
to  herself  strange  and  far  off,  '^  and  I  am  going.     I  thank 


4 


4  - 


must 


THE  SILVER  LINING. 


^95 
liail 


you  most  sinccrelv  for  voiir  kindness,  but  I  wish    I 
been  dead  before  1  ever  came  bere  !" 

Lady  Landsdowne  came  to  tlie  door,  lier  shawl  lian^rinf^ 
oil  her  shoulders,  her  bonnet  still  on,  lier  face  distorted  by 
the  storm  uf  jealous  fury  into  wiiich  she  had  Uished  lier- 
self. 

'*  Yes,  go,  you  wretched  girl,  before  I  order  my  servants 
to  turn  you  out,  but  do  not  think  your  infamy  is  to  bo 
concealed.     Xo,  I  will  expose " 

"  Peace,  woman  I  "  her  husbaiul  thundered.  "  Hold  your 
poisonous  tongue,  or  I  will  forget  I  am  a  man  and '' 

"^  Strike  me  I  "  screamed  Lady  I/iiulsdowne,  who  seemed 
to  be  fairly  beside  lierself.  *'  I  knew  it  would  come  to 
that.  r>ut  I  will  expose  you  both,  the  whole  county  shall 
know  of  it ;  shall  know  lam  a  wronged,  slandered,  insulted 
wife  I  " 

She  finished  with  an  hysterical  peal  of  laughter  that 
ended  in  a  wild  and  noisy  storm  of  tears.  Eve  fled  hor- 
rified, and  Lord  Landsdowne  seizing  the  bell,  rung  a  })eal 
that  brought  half  a  dozen  curious  servants  to  the  spot  at 
once. 

''lier  ladyshii)  is  not  well!  Attend  to  her!''  was  his 
order,  and  then  he  too  was  gone.  Not  in  search  of  Eve, 
though — he  had  not  moral  courage  enough  for  that,  but 
to  lock  himself  in  his  own  room  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 
out  of  tlie  reach  of  his  wife's  serpent-tongue. 

And  Eve,  bareheaded  and  unshawled,  as  she  had  fled 
from  Ilazclwood,  was  flying  now  from  Black  ]\[onk's. 
She  did  not  fly  far,  however  ;  the  gate  opened  before  she 
reached  it,  and  a  tall  gentleman  entered,  and  with  a  cry  of 
joy  she  looked  up  into  the  kind  eyes  and  friendly  face  of 
Senor  Mendez. 

^*  What's  your  liurry.  Eve?''  he  said,  stopping  her; 
"  running  away  again,  eh  ?  " 

**  Oh,  let  me  go  !  let  me  go  ! "  she  cried,  passionately. 
'^  I  shall  die  if  I  stop  here  ! " 

''Die,  will  you  ?  You  look  like  it,  I  must  say  !  What 
has  happened  ?" 

*'  Oh,  do  not  ask  me — it  is  too  dreadful  to  tell  !  Only 
take  me  away  from  here  ! " 

'^  Directly  !     Has  Lady  Landsdowne  returned  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  Oh,  she  is  ten  times  wor^^e  than  ]\ris3 
Forest  ? " 


f\      I 


n 


.  \ 


196 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


"  Yos  ;  I  know  she  is  !  But  what  has  she  done  to  yon  ? 
Oil,  I  see  !  "  lie  exclaimed,  his  eyes  liring  and  his  face 
flnsliing  ;  ''  Eve,  lias  she  turned  yon  out  ?  " 

A  passionate  gesture  was  her  answer — her  voice  was  too 
choked  to  speak. 

"'  My  i)Oor  child  !  My  poor  persecuted  little  Eve  !''  lie 
said  coinpassionatcly,  ''and  "what  are  you  going  to  do 
now  .'' 

She  hroke  out  into  a  wild  cry — the  wail  of  a  half-hroken 
heart. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  I  only  want  to  lie  down  and 
die!" 

A  change  ca:ne  over  Senor  Mendez.  He  took  both  her 
hands  in  his,  and  looked  brightly  down  in  her  face. 

"  Kot  yet,  Eve  !  not  yet  !  IS'ot  till  you  see  the  silver 
lining  of  all  these  clouds,  as  I  promised  you.  You  have 
been  thinking  hard  of  me,  I  know,  for  leaving  you  so 
long  ;  but  I  could  not  help  it.  I  have  been  ui>  to  London 
since,  in  search  of  another  runaway — a  friend  of  yours, 
Eve.  It  will  Jill  come  right  yet,  believe  me.  Can  you 
bear  a  shock.  Eve  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  in  silent  questioning  ;  and  met  his 
reassuring  smile. 

''  Eve,  did  you  ever  hear  of  Conway  Ilazelwood  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  he  was  my  father,"  she  answered,  iier 
heart  beginning  to  throb  fast,  *'  and  that  he  was  dead." 

"  Half  true  and  half  false  !  He  is  your  father,  and  he 
is  not  dead  !     Eve,  your  father  lives  !  " 

"Oh,  where?"  she  wildly  cried,  "where  in  all  the 
world  have  I  a  father  ?  " 

He  took  off  his  sombrero  and  held  open  his  arms. 

"  Here,  Eve  ,  here,  beside  you  !  When  all  the  world 
forsakes  you,  it  is  time  your  father  should  come  to  the 
rescue.  Yes,  Eve  ;  no  longer  the  Creole  planter,  no  longer 
Seuor  Mendez,  but  Conway  Ilazelwood  and  your  father  ! " 


I 


'"1 


V 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


197 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


MEASUKE  FOR    MEASIUE. 


The  door  of  carved  oak,  stiuldcMl  with  brass  nails,  lead- 
ing into  my  lady's  boudoir,  stood  ajar,  and  peeping 
through,  you  might  have  fancied  you  saw  a  glimpse  of 
fairyland,  so  brilliant  was  the  little  room.  Curtains  of  rose 
satin  and  snowy  lace  tempered  the  garish  morning  sun- 
shine, and  fluttered  softly  in  the  light  summer  breeze. 
Your  foot  sunk  deep  in  the  velvet-pile  carpet.  The 
pictures  on  the  walls  were  each  worth  a  fortune  ;  and 
there  were  rare  Indian  cabinets,  uiid  inlaid  tables,  and 
Psyche  mirrors,  and  the  thousand  and  one  costly  trifles 
hidies  with  more  money  than  they  know  what  to  do  with 
love  to  gather  round  them.  It  was,  altogether,  a  perfect 
gem  of  a  room,  this  boudoir  of  my  Lady  Landsdowne. 

On  a  lounge  uiuler  the  window,  in  a  charming  morning 
toilet,  half-buried  in  rosy  cushions,  lay  my  lady  herself. 
A  pretty  woman,  as  you  know  already,  blue-eyed,  golden- 
haired  and  fair-skinned,  with  regular  features,  and  an  air 
that  might  have  done  credit  to  a  princess  royal.  Fair- 
haired,  blue-eyed  and  delicate-featured,  a  gentle  delinea- 
tion surely  ;  but  Lady  Landsdowne  would  not  have  im- 
pressed you  with  the  idea  of  gentleness.  The  fair  face 
looked  hard  and  haughty  at  the  best ;  at  the  worst,  as  it 
was  this  morning,  it  looked  sour,  sullen,  and  almost  flerce. 

A  little  stand  with  therenuiins  of  an  epicurean  breakfast, 
stood  at  her  elbow  ;  the  last  new  novel  was  in  her  hand, 
but  she  was  not  reading  ;  she  wjis  listening — not  in  im- 
patience, not  in  eagerness,  but  with  a  look  of  sullen  de- 
termination about  the  thin,  bitter  lips  and  in  the  wicked 
l)lue  eyes.  AVhat  she  listened  for  came  at  last.  There 
was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  her  French  maid  entered,  dip- 
ping and  smiling. 

"  A  gentleman  was  below,  and  wislied  to  see  mi  ladi. 
lie  did  not  send  his  name,  but  said  he  came  on  important 
business.      OJi,  mon  Dieu  !  here  he  was  I '' 

Sure  enough,  there  he  was,  at  mademoiselle's  elbow — a 


ip 


f^ 


i  ■ 


I.!    iM 


198 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


tall  gentleman,  with  a  handsome,  bronzed  face,  jet-black 
beard  and  mustache,  dark-bright  eyes,  and  the  air  gen- 
erally of  an  Italian  brigand. 

"  Your  mistress  will  see  me,"  said  this  dark  apparition  ; 
*^  have  the  goodness  to  go,  mademoiselle  !  " 

rvlademoisellc  looked  at  her  mistress,  aghast.  ]\[y  lady 
had  risen  to  a  sitting  position  and  waved  her  off  with  her 
jeweled  hand.  She  seemed  very  little  surprised  or  startled 
by  this  strange  visitor  ;  she  had  turned  pale,  it  is  true, 
and  mademoiselle  noticed  it  was  like  the  gray  pallor  of 
death;  but  that  was  all.  Her  glittering  eyes  were  fixed  on 
his  face  as  he  came  in  and  closed  the  door,  and  she  was 
the  first  to  speak,  clearly  and  steadily. 

"  So  you  have  come,"  she  said  ;  '^sooner  or  later  I  knew 
you  would  I " 

*'  I  have  come,"  said  the  deep  voice  of  Senor  Mendez, 
staiiding  before  her,  dark  and  stern  as  Radamanthus,  ''  L 
have  come  to  seal  your  fate  I  Murderess,  matricide,  big- 
amist, your  career  is  run.  I  come  as  an  aveuger,  to  lead 
you  to  your  doom  !  " 

A  strange  mode  of  saluting  a  great  lady  in  her  own 
house  !  But  Lady  Landsdowiie  only  looked  up  in  his  face 
with  a  smile  that  showed  all  her  glistening  white  teeth. 

*'  Will  you  not  take  a  seat,  Mr.  Ilazelwood  ?"  she  said, 
in  her  sweetest  tone,  "or  perhaps  you  jirefer  to  rant 
standing.  That  tragic  speecli  would  bringdown  the  house 
if  you  were  in  Drury  Lane,  or  in  the  Bowery,  in  your  own 
delightful  land  over  the  sea  !  Did  you  expect  me  to  faint 
at  sight  of  you,  this  morning,  Conway  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  Bold  and  daring  as 
he  knew  her  to  be,  he  was  hardly  prepared  for  such  hardi- 
hood, for  such  brazen  effrontery  as  this.  She  broke  into 
II  derisive  little  laugh  as  she  watched  him. 

''  Even  so,  Mr.  Ilazelwood  I  Strange  to  say,  I  fi^'ir  you 
no  more  to-day  than  I  did  sixteen  years  ago,  when  I  poi- 
soned your  pretty  bride,  got  your  brother  hanged,  broke 
your  father's  heart,  and  sent^  you  a  wanderer  over  the  world. 
Oh,  no  !  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  Conway  ;  I  never  was 
afraid  of  any  thing  or  any  u.;o  in  my  life,  and  I  am  not 
likely  to  begin  now." 

*'  You  are  the  devil  himself,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Hazel- 
wood  ;  '*  but  if  you  were  ten  times  tiie  incarnate  demon 
you  are,  your  race  is  run,  your  power  to  do  evil  is  ended. 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


199 


For  stone  walls,  a  treadmill,  or  a  strait-jacket  have  ren- 
dered harmless  worse  fiends  than  vou. " 

Again  she  laughed  her  low,  mocking,  derisive  langh. 
The  woman  seemed  to  he  scarcelv  human  \n  her  darin^r 
fearlessness  ;  and  it  v/as  no  mock  courage,  yon  could  see  ; 
some  secret  sense  of  power  susi)ended  and  lifted  her  uhove 
all  fear. 

"  '  Justice,  thongh  tlie  heavens  fall  I '  Is  that  yonr  re- 
lentless motto,  Mr.  Hazel  wood  ?  "Well,  I  have  reason  to 
be  thankful  to  yon  for  tlie  sixteen  years'  grace  you  have 
given  me  !  You  see  I  have  not  wasted  my  time — 1  have 
gained  wealth,  rank,  title,  position.  I  have  drank  the 
wine  of  life  hot  and  sweet,  and  now  that  I  luive  got  to  the 
lees  I  tind  them  rather  bitter  and  palling  to  the  taste.  I 
am  getting  bhfse,  ^Fr.  Ilazelwood,  and  even  the  treadn  !U 
may  he  pleasant  by  way  of  change  !  ITow  has  the  world 
gone  with  yon  these  sixteen  long  years,  my  dear  hus- 
band ?  " 

"  Woman  !  woman  !  is  no  spark  of  human  nature  left 
in  your  black  and  murderous  heart,  that  you  can  talk 
like  til  is  ?  It  matters  not  to  yon  where  I  have  been — I  have 
known  where  you  were  this  many  a  day,  and  I  spared  you. 
You  had  entrapped  a  good  and  honorable  man  into  marriage 
by  your  devilish  wiles  ;  and  for  his  sake,  though  he  was  a 
stranger  to  me,  I  spared  you.  You  were  a  doul)le,  a  treble 
murderess.  You  had  ruined  my  life,  made  me  a  wanderer 
and  an  outcast,  but  still  I  spared  you.  And,  fiend  that 
you  are,  I  would  have  spared  you  to  the  last — I  would 
have  left  you  to  the  (Ireat  Avenger  of  all  wrongs,  biit  for 
this  hist,  cruelest  deed  of  all.  The  shameful  and  inhu- 
man deed  committed  last  night  !" 

"  Committed  last  nigiit  !  Oh,  you  mean  turning  that 
girl  out  of  doors  !  AVhy,  ^[r.  Ilazelwood,  reflect — I  conio 
home  and  find  a  young  and  pretty  woman  domiciled  with 
my  husband,  a  young  and  handsome  juan,  and " 

''  Silence  ! "'  he  thundered,  raisinghis  voice,  for  the  tlrst 
time,  and  Avith  a  Hash  from  his  dark  eyes,  that  made  even 
the  female  fiend  before  him  cowei*.  "  Silence,  or  Twill 
forget  I  am  a  man,  and  strangle  you  where  y(tu  sit  ! 
Wretch,  Jezebel,  fiendess  !  You  know  as  well  as  1  do,  that 
girl  is  your  own  daughter  I " 

Lady  Landsdowne,  stretched  out  Inr  hand  for  a  jeweled 
fan  on  the  table,  and  began  fanning  herself. 


^J_.L._ 


Mr 


200 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


<t 


m 


U 


& 


■   ^ 


Mr.  Hazelwood,  oblige  me  by  not  shouting  out  in  that 
manner  !  It's  extremely  ill-bred,  and  you'll  have  every 
servant  in  the  liouse  here  to  see  what  is  the  matter.  Sup- 
pose she  is  my  daughter — what  then  ?  It  only  makes  the 
matter  worse  !  I  don't  want  her  here — you  stole  her  from 
me  when  a  child — you  thought  I  wasn't  tlie  proper  sort  of 
joerson  to  bring  up  your  daugliter,  and  you  have  kept  her 
ever  since.  I  didn't  care  mucl.  fv  r  her  then — I  care  a 
groat  deal  less  now  !  1  knew  perfectly  well,  from  the  first 
moment  I  saw  her,  who  she  was — and  a  rare  start  she  gave 
me,  I  assure  you,  for  my  nerves  are  not  at  all  strong  at 
times  ;  but,  as  I  said,  I  didn't  want  her  here — so  I  turned 
her  out  !  If  it  wore  to  do  over  again  I  would  do  it  in  half 
an  hour — just  tlie  same  !  " 

''  I  don't  doubt  it  !  You  would  murder  your  own 
mother  if  you  took  it  into  your  liead  !" 

''Yes,  and  if  she  ever  comes  troubling  me  here,  I  shall 
feel  tempted  to  do  it  !  Oh,  you  need  not  stare  !  I  know 
slie  is  in  Monkswood,  and  has  the  other  one  with  her — I 
have  seen  them  both,  though  slie  never  saw  me.  I  know 
more  than  you  think,  i\lr.  Hazelwood.  I  know  how  she 
stole  Rosamond,  and  would  have  stolen  Evangeline  to  spite 
vou,  if  she  could  !  Poor  little  wretch  !  a  sweet  life  the 
one  she  did  get  must  have  led  with  her — half-starved  all 
her  days,  I  dare  say  !" 

Conway  Hazelwood  stood  looking  at  her,  his  dark  face 
white  as  death. 

**  And  this  creature  who  sits  there  and  says  such  things 
i'3  human  and  a  woman.  Oil,  in  all  this  wide  world  does 
such  another  monster  exist  ?  " 

She  smiled  up  in  his  face  and  fluttered  her  pretty  fan. 

"You  think  me  unique,  then.  I  take  it  as  a  compli- 
ment !  Brit  if  I  am  a  monster  and  a  murderess,  and  all 
the  other  sweet  things  you  cidl  mo,  whose  conduct  made 
me  so,  pray  ?  I  was  the  daughter  of  a  Xew  England  inn- 
keeper, a  pretty,  innocent  biirmaid,  who  used  to  flU  the 
glasses  of  Captaiji  Forrest  ami  his  fast  young  friends  from 
New  York,  make  their  punch,  and  sing  for  them  with  such 
charming  simplicity  and  such  innoccTit  blue  eyes  and  long 
golden  curls,  until  the  blue  eyes  and  golden  curls  turned 
Captain  Forrest's  head,  and  he  made  the  pretty  little  bar- 
tender his  pretty  little  wife  ! " 

"  Yes,  when  t  was  half-mad  with  your  father's  cursed 


I 


^ 


V ; 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


201 


im. 
npli- 
a  all 
nade 
inn- 

the 
from 
such 
long 
rned 

bar- 


liquor,  and  knew  nothing  of  what  I  was  doing.  That  was 
the  one  mad  act  that  has  ruined  my  whole  life  ! " 

**  Very  soon,"  Lady  Landsdowno  placidly  went  on, 
**  Captain  Forrest — an  assumed  name,  but  no  matter — 
got  tired  of  his  artless  little  bride  and  deserted  her.  Her 
father  died,  and  by  and  by  came  two  little  baby  girls,  with 
big  black  eyes  and  black  curly  hair — the  very  image  of 
their  papa.  Papa  found  it  out,  relented,  and  came  to  see 
them,  gave  them  money,  and  went  away  again.  The  ill- 
used  wife  waited,  and  waited,  and  at  last,  growing  tired 
of  that,  began  to  act.  She  got  money  from  him  regularly. 
It  enabled  her  to  act  all  the  better.  She  found  out  the 
reason  of  his  absence — he  was  about  to  break  the  laws  of 
his  country  and  marry  another  wife,  a  richer  and  more 
presentable  bride.  She  found  out  she  was  not  Mrs.  For- 
rest but  Mrs.  Ilazclwood  ;  but  her  husband  was  rich,  and 
treacherous,  and  despised  her.  To  add  to  it  all,  he  stole 
her  children  from  her  one  winter-night,  out  of  a  jioor  and 
lonely  house,  in  a  lonely  marsh,  where  she  and  her  motiier 
were  stopping  for  a  few  days,  on  their  way  to  Xew  York. 
That  was  the  last  drop  in  the  cup  ;  not  that  slie  cared 
much  for  the  twins — they  were  only  a  burden  and  a  tor- 
ment to  her  ;  but  the  act  galled  her  woman's  nature.  She 
resolved  to  be  revenged,  and  in  her  own  way.  All  that 
was  savage  within  her — and  Old  Nicli  had  always  lain  latent 
behind  those  innocent  blue  eyes  and  golden  ringlets — rose 
fierce  to  the  surface.  She  left  her  mother,  secretly  came 
to  the  city,  obtained  a  situation  as  housemaid  in  the  house 
of  her  husband's  bride-elect,  and  laid  her  plans.  It  was  she 
who  wrote  the  notes  to  the  bride  and  her  lover  ;  it  was  she 
who  followed  him  down  Broadway  that  memorable  night 
dressed  as  a  man.  Had  her  trap  laid  for  him  succeeded, 
he  might  liave  been  arrested  for  the  murder  ;  but  he  baffled 
her  there.  It  was  her  haiul  administered  the  poison, 
hidden  in  a  cup  of  colfee,  and  for  wiiich  his  brother  died  ! 
Yes,  she  became  a  murderess  !  but  whose  was  the  first 
fault?" 

'*  Yours,  woman  ;  for  you  entrapped  me  into  a  marriage 
I  never  would  have  thought  of  in  my  sober  senses  I  Who 
can  blame  me  for  tiring  of  you  ?  Wliy  did  you  i^ot  come 
forward  and  proclaim  the  marriage,  as  you  might  have 
done  ?  Mine  alone  was  the  fault  ;  mine  alone  should  have 
been  the  atonement.     But,  no,  you  were  merciless,  and 


IM 


hi   I'* 


202 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


H 


It 


!i        ■'{    i   S! 


now  I  shall  be  merciless  to  yon  !  With  the  measure  yon 
liave  meted  to  otliers  shall  it  this  day  be  measured  to  you  ! 
The  hour  of  retribution  has  come  !" 

"  Has  it  ?     What  are  you  going  to  do,  Mr.  TIazelwood  ?  " 

*'  I  am  going  to  summon  ]jord  Landsdowne  here  and 
tell  him  your  whole  diabolical  history.  You  entrapped 
him  as  you  entrapped  mo.  You  have  been  his  bane  and 
tho  curse  of  his  home,  as  von  have  been  of  mine  !  Then 
you  shall  enter  a  carriage  that  awaits  you  at  the  door,  and 
1  shall  take  you  to  the  house  where  you  are  to  drag  out  the 
rest  of  your  wretched  life." 

"  j\Iight  I  ask  where  this  house  is  ?  *' 

"  It  is  an  English  madhouse  !  There  is  your  stone 
prison,  separated  even  from  the  unfortunates  who  will  be 
your  fellow-captives,  you  may  learn  in  solitude  to  pray  for 
pardon,  and,  perhaps,  mercifully  obtain  forgiveness  from 
llim  who  is  more  merciful  than  man  ;  from  llim  who  has 
said  :  '  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  become 
white  as  wool.'^' 

"  Thank  you  for  your  sermon  !  l>ut  suppose  I  do  not 
believe  in  a  future  state  ;  suppose  I  do  not  choose  to  pray 
— what  am  I  to  do  then  ?" 

''  AV^hat  you  pleasj  !  Your  power  to  do  harm  will  at 
least  be  ended.  You  should  be  thankful  that  your  punish- 
ment is  so  slight  !" 

"Oh,  1  am — excessively  !     When  am  I  to  go  ?  " 

*'  Immediately  !  I  am  going  to  send  for  Lord  Lands- 
downe  now.  You  had  better  put  on  your  bonnet  and 
shawl,  and  be  ready  to  accompany  me  in  half  an  hour." 

lie  rung  the  bell  as  he  spoke,  and  my  lady  arose,  with 
her  cold,  sliglit  laugh  : 

^'  Short  notice  !  15ut  it  is  all  poetical  justice,  I  suppose. 
My  bonnet  and  shawl  are  in  my  bed-chamber,  you  know. 
I  shall  beg  you  to  excuse  me  while  [  ])ut  them  on." 

"  Any  attempt  at  escape  will  be  useless,"  he  said,  sternly. 
*'  You  shall  not  go  out  of  my  sight  !  " 

"I  shall  not  ask  to.  You  may  go  in  and  examine  the 
room.  There  is  no  door — no  setn-et  and  mysterious  trap- 
door, and  tlio  window  is  twenty  feet  from  the  ground.  Go 
in  and  look  yourself,  if  you  do  not  believe  me." 

lie  did  go  in  with  her,  and  she  watched  him  with  lier 
cold,  evil  eye  as  he  examined  the  apartment.  What  she 
had  said  was  true,  and  he  left  hcv*  carefully  adjusting  her 


il' 


STORY  TOLD  IN  THE  DEATH-ROOM.     203 

sliawl  round  her  graceful  shoulders,  and  went  out  again  to 
the  boudoir  to  answer  a  rap  at  the  door.  It  was  a  servant 
come  to  reply  to  the  call." 

*'Is  his  lordship  in  ?"  Mr.  Ilazelwood  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  he  is  in  the  library.'' 

"  Ask  him  to  have  tlie  kindness  to  come  here  at  once, 
will  you  ?" 

The  man  bowed  and  disappeared.  Mr.  Ilazelwood 
glanced  into  the  inner  room.  My  lady  was  still  busy  be- 
fore the  glass.  Five  minutes  passed,  then  Lord  Lands- 
downe  opened  the  door,  staring  with  all  his  eyes  at  the 
stranger. 

"  Senor  Mendez — you  here  !  Where  is  her  ladyship, 
and  what " 

"  My  lord,  come  in,"  was  the  grave  answer. 

A  quaking  cry  and  a  heavy  fall  in  the  next  room.  Both 
rushed  in.  Before  her  dressing-table,  my  lady  lay  Hat 
on  her  face,  writhing  in  dreadful  convulsionjj.  Conway 
Ilazelwood  lifted  her  up,  and  her  face  was  an  appalling 
sight — blackened,  convulsed,  distorted,  the  lips  foaming, 
the  eyeballs  starting.  In  one  clenched  hand  she  held  con- 
vulsively grasped  a  vial,  whose  label  told  the  whole  story. 
The  ghastly  struggle  lasted  but  for  a  moment.  The 
blackened  and  horrible  face  turned  livid,  the  awful  deep 
rattle  sounded  through  the  room  ;  the  hand  f(!ll  back  ;  the 
eyeballs  turned  in  their  inflamed  sockets  ;  the  jaw  dropped, 
and  her  soul  was  gone  I  Rose  Ilazelwood — Lady  Lands- 
downe — had  gone  to  render  an  account  of  her  dark  and 
guilty  life  before  the  highest  of  all  tribunals,  and  the  two 
living  husbands  stood  looking  on  the  dead  wife  ! 


ii 


the 
trap- 
Go 


ClIAPTEli  XXV. 

THE  STORY  TOLD  T  N"  THE    DEATH-ROOM. 

SiLEN"CE  and  gloom  have,  for  many  a  day,  been  the 
pervading  characteristics  of  Black  Monk's  Priory  ;  but  a 
deeper  silence,  a  more  dismal  gloom  hung  over  it  this 
serene  summer  day  than  the  oldest  servitor  of  the  house 
ever  remembered  before.  With  bated  breath  and  noiseless 
step  they  stole  from  room  to  room,  speaking  in  hushed 
whispers  and  with  awestruck  faces  ;  for  an  awful  visitor 


204 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


m 


had  entered  unseen,  unheard,  unannounced.  Death,  grim 
and  relentless,  had  been  in  their  midst ;  and  in  one  of  the 
upper  rooms  my  lady  lay  cold  and  rigid,  and  lifeless.  She 
had  never  been  loved  by  one  in  the  place.  She  was  not 
regretted.  There  was  not  a  living  creature  to  drop  a  tear 
to  the  memory  of  tlie  hard,  cruel,  haughty,  overbearing 
mistress  of  Black  Monk's  ;  but  its  appalling  suddenness 
stunned  them.  She  had  risen  that  morning  in  her  usual 
health.  She  had  eaten  her  breakfast  with  her  accustomary 
appetite.  She  had  not  evinced  the  slightest  symptom  of 
the  slightest  indisposition,  yet  now  she  lay  in  her  room  a 
corpse.  It  was  iiuleed  enough  to  startle  the  most  stolid 
among  them  ;  and,  clustered  together  in  the  servants'  hall, 
the  tragic  event  was  profoundly  discussed  in  all  its  bear- 
ings. Mademoiselle  Rosine,  the  French  maid,  deposed 
how  the  tall  dark  gentleman  had  followed  her  to  the 
boudoir,  had  ordered  her  away,  and  how  horribly  pale  my 
lady  had  turned  at  sight  of  him.  Mademoiselle  was  of 
opinion  that  the  dark  gentleman  was  eitlier  his  Satanic 
Majesty,  or  Death  in  bodily  form  ;  for  no  one  had  ever 
seen  my  lady  alive  after  that.  The  two  rival  village  phy- 
sicians had  been  sent  for  in  great  haste,  but  they  must  have 
come  too  late  ;  for  all  their  combined  efforts  could  not 
kiiulle  one  spark  of  life  in  that  cold  breast.  The  old 
housekee})er  was  the  only  one  among  them  who  had  seen 
her,  and  that  excited  their  curiosity  all  the  more.  It  was 
a  cr}'ing  shame,  they  all  decided,  that  she  alone  should 
have  the  handling  of  the  corpse  and  the  enfrce  of  the 
death-chamber.  Then  there  were  other  things  to  arouse 
their  curiosity.  The  tall  stranger  whom  William,  the 
coachman,  knew,  and  "  who  was  a  foreign  gentleman  from 
Spain  or  Rooshia,  and  was  named  Mendez,  which  he 
stopped  at  the  Black  Monk's  Arms,  along  of  another  foreign 
gent,  and  was  great  up  at  Ilazelwood,'^  had  taken  his  de- 
parture about  noon  ;  and  the  housekeeper,  having  arranged 
the  corpse  in  its  grave-clothes,  had  been  turned  out  of  the 
room  by  my  lord,  wlio  was  watching  by  the  dead  alone. 
Tlien  a  little  after  sunset  a  carriage  had  driven  up  to  the 
door,  and  the  foreign  gentlenuin  had  alighted  with  three 
ladies.  Two  of  the  ladies  were  evidently  young,  though 
their  faces  were  hidden  behind  thick  veils.  The  third  was 
old,  and  ugly,  and  wrinkled,  and  bent,  and  poorly  dressed, 
and  was  crying  and  moaning  pitifully,  and  twisting  her 


'IgU 

dc- 

ged 

the 

)ne. 

the 

iree 

ugh 

was 

sed, 

her 


STORY  TOLD  IN  THE  DEATH-ROOM.     205 

skinny  old  fingers,  and  wiping  lier  bleared  old  eyes  all  the 
time  she  was  in  sigiit.  The  whole  four  had  gone  up-stairs 
to  that  room,  and  there  they  were  now  ;  and  the  assembly 
in  the  servants'  hall  could  make  neither  top  nor  tail  of  the 
whole  matter.  Some  inclined  to  dilfer  from  Mademoiselle 
liosine  in  lier  view  of  tlie  case,  and  were  of  the  opinion 
that  tlie  foreign  gentleman  had  murdered  my  lady  in  cold 
blood  ;  and  this  dismal  view  of  things  was  about  agreed 
upon  between  them,  when  tlie  housekeeper  came  sweeping 
down  ui)on  them,  and  dispersed  them  about  their  business. 
And  how  was  it  in  that  chamber  of  dejith — that  chamber 
of  horror  ?  The  gray  and  mystic  twilight  (the  only  light 
fitted  for  such  a  scene)  stole  drearily  in  through  the  closed 
curtains,  lingering  darkly  in  the  corners,  and  brooding 
darkest  of  all  in  that  corner  where  the  bed  was.  A  white 
sheet  covered  the  bed,  and  under  it  there  was  the  outline 
of  a  stark  form  in  the  marble  rigidity  of  death.  In  an 
armchair,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  but  not  near  it.  Lord 
Landsdowne  sat,  a  little  paler,  a  little  graver  than  usual, 
but  quiet  .and  self-possessed.  The  first  shock  of  horror 
had  passed  away.  The  brief  explanation,  which  had 
shocked  and  horrified  him  more  almost  than  the  suicide 
had  done,  was  past,  too,  and  the  worst  that  could  come 
was  over.  There  had  been  no  love  many  a  day — there 
could  be  no  sorrow  now.  It  was  oidy  ghastly  and  appalling 
to  think  of,  and  he  wanted  to  forget  it  all  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible ;  to  go  far  from  Black  Monk's,  and  remember  the 
last  few  years  only  as  a  hideous  dream.  Crouching  at  the 
liead  of  the  bed,  rocking  to  and  fro,  moaning  and  crying, 
was  the  old  woman  ;  her  hands  clasped  round  her  knees, 
and  her  dim  old  eyes  fixed  piteously  on  the  bed.  Yes,  there 
was  one  human  being  to  regret  Lady  Landsdowne — her 
wretched  old  mother.  On  a  sofa  by  the  window,  clinging 
together,  white  and  startled,  two  young  girls  sat  ;  two  so 
strangely  alike  that  the  resemblance  might  have  astonished 
yon.  The  same  wealth  of  jetty  curls,  the  same  brilliant 
black  eyes,  the  same  dark,  clear  complexion;  tlie  same  reg- 
ular features,  the  same  height  precisely,  in  all  things  the 
same  but  one — that  one  was  in  expression.  One  of  the 
two  had  a  strangely  cowed  and  subdued  look — a  shrinking, 
frightened  manner,  the  result  of  long  years  of  hard  treat- 
ment, and  blows  and  abuse.  Poor  Rosamond  Ilazelwood  ! 
The  whining  old  beldame  beside  the  bed  could  have  told  a 


if! 

1 1 


V 


I ' 


206 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


t  ■  /-'i 


pitiable  tale,  if  she  chose,  of  the  life  she  had  led  the  graiicl- 
danghter  she  stole. 

One  other  person  was  in  the  room,  walking  up  and  down 
witli  restless  steps.  It  was  the  foreign  gentleman,  who 
was  telling,  in  the  twilight,  his  dark  and  tragical  tale. 

'*  Yes,  my  lord,'^  he  was  saying,  *'  what  I  told  you  was  all 
Heaven's  truth.  That  dead  woman  was  my  wife  and  the 
mother  of  these  girls  ;  and  I  am  no  Cuban,  no  Senor 
Mendez,  but  Conway  Tlazelwood,  and  the  rightful  owner 
of  the  estate  which  my  brother  Arthur  now  holds.  This 
old  woman  is  the  motlier  of  her  who  bore  the  name  of 
Lady  Landsdowne." 

*'  Yes,  Tm  her  mother  ;  her  poor,  forsaken,  broken- 
hearted old  mother,"  the  old  woman  whispered  ;  "and  I 
never  knew  she  was  a  great  lady  like  this,  or  I  would  have 
come  here  long  ago.  Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !  and  now  she's 
dead — and  p'isened  herself  I  " 

"I  have  committed  manv  a  mad  deed  in  my  life,"  Mr. 
Hazelwood  said,  "but  that  marriage  of  mine  was  the 
crowning  madness  of  all.  AVitli  half  a  dozen  hair-brained 
college  friends  I  went  to  a  New  England  village  one  sum- 
mer, to  fish  and  shoot,  and  v/e  took  it  into  our  heads  to  go 
under  assnmed  names.  I  took  that  of  my  mother's  family, 
Forrest,  and  we  stopped  at  the  village  inn,  kept  by  this 
old  woman  and  her  husband." 

*'  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  "  phrilly  put  in  the  old  woman  herself, 
"a  lot  of  high-llyers,  and  Captain  Forrest  the  worse  of  all 
— turning  the  silh  heads  of  the  girls,  and  drinking  and 
carousing  till  all  hours  of  the  night.  I  warned  Rose,  but 
she  always  wanted  to  be  a  lady,  and  now  she's  dead  !  Oh, 
dear,  dear,   dear  !  " 

"  She  was  pretty,  very  pretty,"  ]\[r.  Hazelwood  went  on, 
glancing  slightly  at  the  bed,  "  and  I  believed  her  as  good 
and  as  innocent  as  she  was  beautiful.  Still,  in  my  sober 
senses  I  should  never  have  married  her,  for  I  never  really 
got  beyond  admiration  of  the  fascinating  little  barmaid  ; 
but  I  was  mad  with  liquor  and  altogether  reckless  when 
the  thing  was  done.  It  was  indeed  nuirry  in  haste  and  re- 
pent at  leisure  with  me  ;  and  before  long  I  found  out  she 
was  as  corrupt  of  heart  as  fair  of  face.  That  settled  the 
question.  Much  as  my  cliains  galled  me,  I  might  have 
been  true  to  her  but  for  that.  I  left  her  ;  perhaps  I  did 
wrong,  but  Heaven  knows  I  had  good  cause.     She  did  not 


re- 
sile 
tlie 
iiive 
(lid 
uot 


STORY  TOLD  IN  THE  DEATH-ROOM.     207 

know  my  real  name  ;  I  hoped  she  never  would.  I  sent  lier 
money  2)lenty,  and  I  never  lost  si^^ht  of  her.  When  tliose 
children  were  born  I  went  hack  ;  but  I  found  that  living 
with  her  was  au  impossibility — I  need  not  tell  you,  my  lord, 
what  slie  was  :  she  has  made  your  life  a  curse,  as  she  has 
mine — and  I  left  her  again.  Then  came  that  other  mar- 
riage I  told  you  of  this  morning;  Ilek^n  was  gentle,  and  lov- 
ing, and  innocent  ;  and  I  really  loved  her,  as  she  did  me, 
witli  lier  whole  heart ;  I  was  wrong,  I  know  ;  I  knew  it  then, 
too,  but  more  tlian  love  led  me  on.  My  pride,  my  honor, 
lier  ha])})iness,  all  were  at  stake,  and  I  would  not  pause. 
1  reso./ed  to  provide  amjjly  for  Rose  ;  I  knew  tliat  stio 
loved  money  a  thousand  times  more  than  she  did  me,  and 
to  take  my  children  from  her.  8iie  was  no  fit  guardian 
for  any  tiling  innocent ;  I  laid  my  phins  and  succeeded.  I 
placed  the  twin  infants  under  my  father's  care  ;  I  sent  her 
an  ample  supply  of  money,  and  flattered  myself  she  would 
go  her  own  way  and  let  me  go  mine.  My  lord,  how  ter- 
ribly I  was  mistaken,  you  know.  AV'hat  I  have  all  ready 
told  you,  I  will  not  repeat  ;  it  is  not  fitted  for  the  ears 
that  are  listening  now.  It  half  maddens  me  yet  to  think 
of  my  bride,  my  brother,  my  father  !  To  that  father  I 
told  all  before  I  fled  from  my  native  land,  and  that  tale 
was  his  death-warrant.  For  years  I  was  a  wanderer,  and 
the  most  miserable  of  men  ;  I  went  to  the  East,  and  lost 
sight  completely  of  America  and  all  I  had  left  behind. 
In  Syria,  1  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  Senor  Mendez,  a 
Cuban  planter  of  immense  wealth  and  failing  health.  He 
was  an  eccentric  old  man,  with  no  near  relatives  ;  wo 
became  fast  friends  and  traveling-companions  ;  and  at  his 
death  he  left  me  all  he  possessed.  I  went  to  Cuba  ;  my 
estate  was  a  little  paradise  below  ;  and  for  a  few  more 
years  I  spent  a  tranquil,  idle,  indolent,  luxurious  life. 
Then  I  grew  tired  of  that,  too  ;  I  came  back  to  Xew  York. 
There,  under  the  name  1  had  assumed  with  the  estate,  I 
found  that  I  had  fallen  heir,  long  before,  to  llazelwood, 
where  my  brother  reigned  in  my  ])lace  ;  that  one  of  the 
twin  infants  I  had  left  under  my  father's  care,  had  been 
stolen  shortly  after,  and  had  never  been  heard  of  since, 
and  that  the  other  was  at  school  in  Canada.  I  came  to 
England  before  going  to  Canada  ;  saw  my  brother  and 
my  cousin  Una,  without  being  recognized,  made  an- 
other tour  of  the  continent,  and  went  back.     This  time  I 


il  I 


V 


1 


2o8 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


i'f    U 


(lid  visit  Canada.  I  had  known  tlic  preceptress  of  tlie 
school  in  Cuba ;  I  visited  her,  and  saw  Eve,  and  from  that 
time  I  never  lost  siglit  of  her.  Wiien  she  was  sent  for  to 
come  here,  I  came  too.  I  accompanied  her  to  Monks  wood, 
and  determined  to.  remain  and  watch  over  her.  "JMie  very 
evening  of  my  arrival,  as  I  stood  talking  to  her  at  Hazel- 
wood,  a  carriage  passed  ns,  and  a  lady  looked  from  the 
window.  I  recognized  the  face  instantly  ;  it  was  one  I  had 
good  reason  to  remember,  though  so  many  years  had  passed 
since  I  last  beheld  it — it  was  the  face  of  the  woman  I 
thought  dead — of  Lady  Landsdowne." 

"  I  had  met  her  in  France,"  Lord  Landsdowne  said, 
helplessly,  **  four  years  before.  She  was  nursery-gover- 
ness in  a  family  where  I  was  visiting,  and  I  don't  know 
how  it  was,  but  her  beauty,  and  her  winning  ways,  and  her 
sorrowful  looks " 

"Oh,  I  understand  it,"  Mr.  Hazelwood  said  ;  *' there 
never  was  a  better  actress.  Yon  married  her  as  I  did,  and 
found  out  the  difference.  She  did  not  see  my  face  that 
evening  ;  the  first  time  she  saw  me  was  that  stormy  day 
at  the  village-inn,  when  the  suddenness  of  the  shock  over- 
came even  her  irons  nerves,  and  she  shrieked  and  fainted. 
It  was  for  your  sake  I  spared  her  ;  I  would  have  spared  her 
to  the  end  had  she  been  merciful  to  her  own  child." 

'*  Perhaps  she  did  not  recognize  her,"  Lord  Landsdowne 
said. 

"  She  did  recognize  her  ;  she  told  me  so.  She  knew 
her  from  the  first,  and  Rosamond  and  her  mother  too. 
By  one  of  those  strange  freaks  of  fortune  that  astonish  the 
world  at  times,  this  old  woman  had  brought  Rosamond 
to  the  Canadian  village  where  Eve  was  at  school.  Eve 
was  recognized  by  her  grandmother  as  soon  as  seen  ;  and 
Paul  Schaffer  found  out  the  whole  story  from  her  by  a 
bribe,  and  resolved  to  make  use  of  it  for  his  own  ends.  He 
was  the  open  lover  of  Hazel  Wood,  and  the  secret  lover  of 
Eve  ;  he  was  jealous  of  young  D'Arville,  and  laid  a  plot, 
with  the  connivance  of  others,  to  frustrate  his  rival  and 
compel  Eve  to  marry  him  in  spite  of  herself.  Una  Forest, 
who  should  have  been  Eve's  protectress,  joined  with  him 
against  her.  You  see  the  resemblance  Rose  and  her  sister 
bear  to  each  other.  You  could  scarcely  tell  them  apart 
yourself,  my  lord.  Rose  was  compelled  to  meet  Schaffer 
by  night  in  the  grounds  of  Hazelwood,  and  carefully  trained 


He 
of 

3lot, 

and 
rest, 
him 
ister 
ipart 
after 
ined 


STORY  TOLD  IN  THE  DEATH-ROOM.     209 

in  the  part  she  was  to  play  ;  D'Arville  was  brought  out  to 
witness  the  performance  ;  the  diabolical  })lot  succeeded  to 
perfection  ;  lie  never  for  a  moment  dreamed  it  could  bo 
other  than  Eve  ;  and  in  tlie  first  impulse  of  outraged  prido 
and  love,  left  Ilazehvood,  without  one  word  of  ex[)lauatioii 
or  farewell.  Next  day.  Eve  was  driven  from  Ilazolwood 
by  the  abuse  of  Miss  Forest,  and  you  know  how  you  audi 
found  her.  I  resolved  that  she  should  remain  here  until 
her  mother  returned,  and  see  if  one  spark  of  huiufu  na- 
ture lingered  in  her  hard  and  vindictive  heart.  You  know 
better  than  I  do,  my  lord,  the  scene  which  followed.  I 
met  mv  daughter  flying  from  this  house,  as  she  had  tied 
from  Hazel  wood  ;  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  I  told  her 
who  I  was.  I  took  her  to  the  inn  where  I  stopped  ;  I  found 
out  this  woman  and  my  other  child  ;  I  brought  the  three 
together  and  told  them  the  tale  I  have  now  told  you.  That 
was  the  first  part  of  my  task  ;  my  second  was  one  of  retri- 
bution. I  felt  no  mercy,  no  compassion  now  for  her  who 
lies  there  dead.  I  came  here  this  morning  to  exact  justice 
to  the  uttermost  farthing.  You  should  have  hcjird  the  tale 
before  her,  and  the  cell  of  a  madhouse  should  have  been 
lier  home  for  life,  had  she  not  taken  her  fate  in  her  own 
hand.  She  expected  me  and  was  prepared  ;  she  believed 
in  no  future  life,  she  was  weary  of  this,  and  so " 

He  stopped  and  stood  looking  at  the  bed.  Lord  Lands- 
downe  followed  his  glance  for  an  instant,  and  then  turned 
away  with  a  slight  shudder. 

'*  I  shall  leave  this  horrible  place  within  a  week.  May 
I  ask  what  is  to  be  your  next  step  ?  " 

**  Ketribution  still  !  The  merjy  that  others  have  shown 
shall  be  shown  unto  them.  Hazelwood  is  to  be  the  next 
place  1  visit  ;  and  Paul  Schaffer  and  L^na  Forest  will  find 
out  the  game  is  not  all  in  their  own  hands  ;  that  a  power 
superior  to  theirs  is  at  work.  You  must  be  there  to  witness 
the  family  reunion  that  is  to  take  place.  You  have  seen 
Eve's  humiliation  ;  must  you  also  see  her  triumph." 


?> 


t 


'I  ■ 


'^•^Pl 


2IO 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


I 


,  V  '  '  ■■ 


i  I 


'»■■       ! 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

JUBILATE  ! 

And  so  there  was  a  funerul  at  Black  Monk's — a  very 
quiet  and  retiring  affair — and  the  county  magnates  were 
all  there,  with  condolences  ;  and  maneuvering  mammas 
with  marriageable  daughters  began  building  castles  in  the 
air  for  their  Laura  Matildas,  as  they  inspected  the  broad 
lands  of  Black  Monk's,  and  reflected  on  tlie  widowed  state 
of  its  master.  And  in  the  family  vault  bene;itli  Plonks- 
wood  church  there  was  another  coffin,  and  the  house  in 
Belgrave  square  had  crape  on  the  door,  and  among  the 
obituary  notices  in  the  Times  tlicrc  was  one  of  Rosamond, 
Lady  Landsdowne,  who  had  died  suddenly  of  congestion 
of  the  brain  ;  and  then  it  was  all  over,  and  the  county 
magnates  went  home,  to  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  and  the 
handsome  and  haughtly  lady  of  Black  Monk's  was  out  of 
the  world  aiul  forgotten. 

Among  the  gentlemen  who  had  attended  the  funeral 
procession  was  Mr.  Arthur  Hazel  wood,  of  Hazel  wood.     It 


had  be 


a  Q'ood  deal  of  a  trial  to  that  human  snail  to 


crawl  out  of  his  shell ;  but  Miss  Forest,  with  her  customary 
clear-headed  foresiglit,  had  represented  so  strongly  what 
society  in  general,  and  Lord  Landsdowne  in  2:)articular, 
required  of  him,  tliat  he  had  been  morally  dragged  from 
his  sanctum  of  ease,  and  turned  out  in  the  cold.  He  had 
drawled  forth  his  regrets  in  most  gentlemanly  fashion,  and 
tried  as  much  as  in  him  lay  to  keep  from  yawning  in 
church  durinir  the  oration  and  burial  service  ;  and  then  he 
had  shaken  hands  languidly  and  under  protest  with  the 
people  he  knew,  and  gone  home,  and  been  exceedingly 
bored  by  it  all.  It  would  take  at  least  six  months  of  un- 
disturbed repose  to  recover  him  fully  from  the  shocks  his 
delicate  nature  had  lately  undergone,  '^^riiere  was  the  ar- 
rival of  those  two  lioydenish  girls  from  Canada — Shock 
Xuin1)er  One  ;  there  was  the  ungentlemanly  and  unbus- 
inesslike flight  of  his  secretary — Shock  Number  Two  ;  there 
was  the  other  flight  of  one  of  the  girls — -he  was  not  quite 
sure  which  ;  and  now  here  was  this  dismal  burying,  which 


11  n- 
liis 


, 


JUBILATE 


211 


had  upset  h'un  most  of  all.  Mr.  llazchvood's  nerves  were 
ill  a  shattered  state  as  he  sunk  into  an  easy-chair  next 
morning,  and,  wrapping  his  gorgeous  dressing-gown  around 
him,  broke  his  first  vff^.  It  was  half-past  twelve  ;  but 
r»Ir.  llazelwood  had  had  sonu?  tea  and  toast  in  bed,  so  ho 
was  not  quite  starving,  late  as  was  his  breakfast-hour. 
Miss  Forest  was  there,  in  a  dainty  morning  toilet,  looking 
very  fair  an<l  pretty,  as  she  poured  out  his  ehoeohite,  and 
giving  no  sign  outwardly  of  having  ever  loved,  or  suffered, 
or  plotted,  or  done  wrong 

"And  so  there  were  a  great  many  at  the  funeral, 
Arthur?''  she  was  sayitig.  "Of  course — I  knew  there 
would  be  ;  and  just  think  how  it  would  look  if  you,  the 
nearest  neighbor  of  all,  staved  away.  Was  Senor  Mendez 
there  ?  " 

"  Ya-as,"  drawled  her  cousin  ;  "  and  it  strikes  me  1 
have  seen  that  man  somewhere  before.     His  face  looks 


familiar. 


}} 


a 


So  it  does,"  said  Una.  "  I  have  often  thought  so, 
too.  He  reminds  mo  of  Conway  ;  but  I  suppose  that  is 
nothing  but  fancy.     AVas  Mr.  SchaiTer  there  ?  '* 

"Oh,  yes,  and  no  end  of  people.     Come  in." 

This  was  in  answer  to  a  rap  ;  and  his  valet  made  his  ap- 
pearance, bearing  two  cards  on  a  salver. 

"  Senor  Mendez  and  ^Fr.  Sehaffer,"  said  Una,  glancing 
at  them.  "  Speak  of  the —  You  know  the  old  proverb, 
Arthur.     What  can  they  want  with  you  ?  " 

"They  want  to  bore  me  to  death.  It  is  the  aim  of  all 
my  friends,"  Mr.  Hazel  wood  said,  helplessly.  "  I  sup- 
pose I  must  see  them.  Show  them  up,  Louis  ;  L"na,  an- 
other cup  of  chocolate." 

Before  jMiss  Forest  had  finished  pouring  out  the  choco- 
late, the  two  gentlemen  were  in  the  roorn  ;  Senor  Mendez 
with  an  unusually  grave,  not  to  say  stern,  face,  and  Mr. 
Schalfer  looking  rather  puzzled  and  at  a  loss.  Miss  Forest, 
bowing  distantly,  was  about  to  depart,  when  Senor  Mendez 
interposed. 

'^  Pardon,  madam,"  h(3  said,  gravely,  "but  the  bus- 
iness which  brings  me  here  this  morning  concerns  you  as 
well  as  Mr.  Hazelwood.  So  you  will  have  the  goodness  to 
favor  us  with  your  presence  for  a  few  moments." 

Una  flashed  an  alarmed  glance  at  Paul  Schaffer  ;  but 
that  gentleman's  assuring  look  said  as  plainly  as  words  : 


H 

.1  . 

'I 


f   i' 


C  I  2 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


!'^  i 


ril'i     ! 


^'  I  know  notliiiig  about  it,  I  assnre  you.  It's  all  Greek 
to  me." 

Mr.  Hazehvood,  who  had  been  beating  the  devil's  tattoo 
u'itli  his  spoon,  dropped  it  and  his  jaw  at  the  mention  of 
the  appalling  word  ""  business." 

''Business  I"  lie  faintly  echoed.  "  My  dear  fellow,  you 
must  be  mistaken  !  What  business  can  you  possibly  have 
with  me  ?  " 

"A  good  deal,  as  you  will  find  out  presently,"  said 
Senor  Mendez,  helping  himself  to  a  chair  and  drawing  off 
his  gloves;  "and  we  will  proceed  to  it  at  once.  Mr. 
Schatfer,  tliere  is  a  chair  ;  pray  be  seated,  Miss  Forest. 
The  matter  may  detain  us  some  time." 

But  Miss  Forest,  standing  by  the  window,  looking  out, 
chose  to  pay  no  heed  to  the  invitation.  She  was  watching 
a  carriage  driving  up  the  avenue — the  carriage  of  Lord 
Landsdowne.  What  could  possibly  be  bringing  him  to 
Ilazelwood  ? 

''  Mr.  Arthur  Ilazelwood,"  Senor  Mendez  began,  lean- 
ing forward  and  transfixing  that  bewildered  gentleman 
with  his  dark,  eagle  eye  ;  "  may  I  ask  how  long  it  is  since 
you  inherited  this  estate  ?  " 

"  Senor  Mendez  ! "  cried  Miss  Forest,  facing  suddenly 
and  sharply  round,  "  Avhat  business  is  that  of  yours  ?  " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Forest ;  my  question  Avas  ad- 
dressed to  your  cousin  !  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  an- 
swer, Mr.  ilazelwood  ?" 

"It  is  nearly  sixteen  years  ago,"  said  Mr.  Hazelwood, 
looking  more  and  more  helpless  and  bewildered. 

"It  was  left  by  an  uncle,  was  it  not,  to  the  next  of  kin  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Were  you  the  next  of  kin  ?  " 

"Ya-as." 

"  Indeed  !  T  fancied  you  had  an  elder  brother,  Conway. 
The  estate  fell  to  him,  I  should  think — did  it  not  ?  " 

Una  Forest  fairly  bounded,  and  stifled  a  cry  in  its  birth, 
as  she  looked  wildly  at  the  speaker,  but  the  obtuse  Arthur 
was  still  "  far  wide." 

"  He  was  away — nobody  knew  where,  and  he  has  never 
been  heard  of  since.     He  is  probably  dead  long  ago." 

Senor  Mendez  rose  from  his  chair,  his  commanding  form 
drawn  up  to  its  fullest  hight. 

'  He  is  not  dead,  Mr.  Arthur  Ilazelwood.     He  is  alive 


a 


: 
i 


JUBILATE! 


213 


V 


i 


and  here  to  claim  liis  own  !  I  am  Conway  Hazel- 
wood  !/' 

The  master  of  Ilazelwood  rose  from  liis  cliair,  white  as 
a  sheet,  and  perfectly  speechless.  There  had  been  an  ex- 
clamation from  Paul  8cliafTer ;  and  Una  Forest  stood 
grasping  a  chair,  her  lips  apart,  tlie  eyes  dilating.  In  si- 
lence they  all  stood,  the  two  brothers  confronting  each 
other  across  the  table. 

''  Yes,  I  am  Conway  Ilazelwood,"  the  ci-devant  Cuban 
repeated;  ''and  I  come  to  demand  an  account  of  your 
stewardship,  Arthur.  Oh,  you  need  not  stare  so  !  I  can 
easily  prove  my  identity  !  Look  here — do  you  know  this  ? 
Yon  ought  to,  since  it  is  some  of  your  own  handiwork  !  " 

He  lifted  the  clustering  dark  hair  from  his  temple,  and 
showed  a  long  purple  scar.  Arthur  gave  a  cry  as  he  saw 
it. 

"  Conway  I  Can  it  indeed  be  you  ?  How  could  I  have 
been  so ^' 

"  Stupid  !  very  true,  but  then  you  know,  Ariliur,  you 
never  could  see  very  far  into  a  millstone.  I  only  wonder 
our  bright-eyed,  sharp-sighted  little  Una  did  not  recognize 
me  from  the  first !  " 

'' I  wonder  at  it  now,  myself,"  Una  said,  coming  for- 
ward ;  *'but  we  all  tiiought  you  dead.  Oh,  Conway! 
What  a  surprise  this  is  !  " 

"  Isn't  it  ?   You're  glad  to  see  me,  I  suppose,  Una  ?" 

'*  You  know  I  am,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand  ; 
but  the  blue  eyes  shifted  and  fell  in  tlie  old  way,  as  she 
spoke.     '*  Why  did  you  not  tell  us  long  ago  ?  " 

''Because  I  always  was  and  will  be  an  oddity — I  sup- 
pose !  Well,  Mr.  Scliaffer,  you  are  staring  very  hard  ; 
what  do  you  make  of  all  this  ?  " 

''Upon  my  honor!"  said  Mr.  Schaffer,  in  all  candor, 
*'  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,  unless  you  are  privately 
rehearsing  theatricals.    It  all  seems  exceedingly  like  it  !  " 

"  All  tlie  world's  a  stage,  and  all  the  men  and  women 
players,"  quoted  Mr.  Conway  Ilazelwood.  "  Your  part 
in  the  performance  will  come  in  presently  !  Well,  Ar- 
thur, old  boy,  you  are  quite  satisfied  I  am  myself,  and  no- 
body else  ?     Your  brother  Conway,  and  no  gliost  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  doubt  it !  But  where  in  the  world  have  you 
been  all  tliis  time  ?  " 

"  Never  mind   that  !     It  is  my  time  to  ask    questions 


i\  m/B 


.(         »! 


214 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


m 


i 


H    ';^!l 


now — yours  may  come  by  and  by.  Arthur,  where  is  my 
daughter  ?  " 

"  Your  what  ?"  gasped  Mr.  Arthur,  aghast. 

"  My  daughter  !  If  you  don't  know  Eve  Hazelwood  is 
my  daughter,  Una  does.     Una,  wliere  is  she  ?" 

"  She  your  daughter  !     Then  poor  Eugene  was  right  !  '* 

'"  To  be  sure  he  was,  as  you  knew  many  a  day  ago — as 
my  fatlier  knew,  and  as  the  paper  ho  left  for  her  and  her 
sister  on  his  deathbed  will  prove.  Dr.  Lance  told  me 
about  that — he  told  me  tlien  how  Rosie  was  stolen  when 
an  infant,  by  a  person  or  persons  unknown.  But  Eve  was 
not  stolen — where  is  she — she  may  be  glad  to  find  a 
father." 

Paul  Schaffer  drew  suddenly  back,  and  then  looked 
down. 

''  CouAvay,  I  am  sorry — I  am  very  sorry — but  she  is  not 
here  !  " 

''  Not  here  !     AYhere  tlien  is  she  ?  " 

"  That  I  cannot  tell.  You  had  better  ask  Mr. 
SchalTer  ! " 

"  What  has  Mr.  Schaffer  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

''  A  great  deal,"  said  he,  very  boldly  ;  ^'  as  poor  Hazel 
AVood  could  toHiify  if  she  were  here." 

"Where  is  she  ?" 

*'  Hazel  ?  sick,  poor  child  !  She  has  been  very  ill  ever 
since  Eve  ran  away.  Perhaps  I  was  a  little  severe  with 
her,  but  it  was  for  her  good  ! " 

*'  Wliat  had  she  done  ?  " 

"  Slie  was  engaged  to  Mr.  D'Arville — she  gave  him  to 
understand  she  loved  him,  yet  we  saw  her  steal  out  to 
meet,  by  night,  and  by  stealth,  Mr.  Schaffer  in  the 
grounds.  The  sight,  and  the  words  he  heard,  her  perfidy 
confirmed  by  her  own  lips,  drove  D'Arville  from  the 
house.  I  reproached  her  next  day,  as  I  felt  it  my  duty  ta 
do,  and  she  ran  away  in  a  passion,  and  we  have  never  seen 
her  since.'' 

Conway  Hazelwood  turned  to  Paul  Schaffer  : 

"  Is  tliis  true,  Mr.  Schaffer  ?  " 

**It  is,"  ho  answered,  unflinchingly, 

*'  Did  Eve  Hazelwood  hold  nocturnal  interview  with 
you  in  the  grounds  ?  " 

"She  did  !" 

**  Vihiil  was  she  to  you  ?  " 


1 


JUBILATE! 


215 


'  >i 


*'  My  betrothed  wife  before  we  ever  left  Canada  ! 

*'  She  must  have  been  a  most  reckless  flirt,  then  !  Uow 
came  she  to  be  also  engaged  to  Monsieur  D'Arville  ?" 

"It  was  only  to  wm  a  foolish  wager  made  with  my 
cousin  Kate.  She  never  cared  a  jot  for  him  ;  she  told 
me  so  herself." 

"I  heard  her,"  chimed  in  Una,  *^and  so  did  Monsieur 
D'Arville  and  Hazel  Wood." 

''  But  she  may  have  told  him  the  same  story  of  yon. 
Perhaps  she  was  only  flirting  with  both  of  you.  Was  it 
the  first  time  she  had  met  you  like  this,  or  was  she  in  the 
habit  of  it?" 

Mr.  Scliaffer  hesitated. 

"  Speak  out  !  "  Mr.  Hazelwood  said,  "  I  am  her  father 
and  have  a  right  to  know.     Was  it  the  first  time  ?  " 

'•  No." 

*'  She  was  in  the  habit  of  it,  then.  But  why  was  se- 
crecy necessary  ?  " 

•^  She  did  not  wish  to  arouse  the  suspicions  of  D'Arville. 
She  wanted  to  make  sure  of  him  and  win  her  bet." 

"  Ah  !  I  see.  But  is  it  not  strange  that  after  leaving 
her,  she  did  not  fly  to  you  ?  " 

"  That,  I  confess,  is  the  strangest  part  of  it.  But 
there  is  no  accounting  for  a  girl's  whims." 

''Very  true.  And  Monsieur  D'Arville  saw  you  meet 
her  in  the  grounds  ?  " 

"  We  did,"  said  Una.  "  We  were  out  searching  for  a 
purse  I  had  lost,  and  came  by  chance  upon  them.  I  am 
convinced  the  fault  was  not  Mr.  Schaffer's  but  hers. 
The  secret  meeting,  it  appears,  was  her  wish." 

"'  A  very  odd  wish,  too,  I  should  think,  not  to  sav  im- 
proper ;  and  you  did  quite  right,  Una,  to  scold  heV  for 
such  conduct.     Will  you  excuse  me  for  one  moment  ?  " 

He  was  gone  before  they  could  speak,  and  back  again 
directly,  but  not  alone.  Monsieur  Claude  D'Arville  was 
with  liim.  Una  suppressed  au  exclamation,  Mr.  S"iiaffor 
an  oath,  while  Mr.  Arthur  Hazelood  set  with  month  and 
eyes  agaj)e,  utterly  bewildered  by  it  all. 

"  Monsieur  D'Arville,"  said  Mr.  Hazelwood,  ''before 
you  left  this  place,  over  a  week  ago,  were  you  enerajred  to 
Miss  Eve  Hazelwood  ? "  ^  5  b 

"  Yes,"  said  Monsieur  D'Arville,  "I  was." 

*'  Why,  then,  did  you  leave  her  as  you  did  ?  " 


i 


2l6 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


t/J    ; 


"Because  I  discovered  her  to  be  false.  Miss  Forest 
lost  her  purse,  and  I  went  out  with  her  one  night  to  seek 
for  it  in  the  grounds,  a'ul  tliere  I  discovered  Eve  and  Mr. 
Schaffer  together.  I  heard  her  tell  him  she  loved  him 
only  ;  that  she  only  laughed  at  me,  and  had  drawn  mo 
on  to  win  a  ])et.     How  could  I  stay  after  that  ?  " 

''  Not  very  well.  You  are  quite  sure  it  was  Eve  you 
saw  ?     Might  you  not  be  mistaken  in  the  moonlight  ?  " 

"  Hardly.  It  was  her  voice,  her  face,  and  then  her 
allusion  to  myself.  Oh,  no;  a  mistake  was  impossible  I 
Miss  Forest  and  Miss  AVood  recognized  her,  as  well  as  I," 

"  And  that  was  the  cause  of  your  leaving  ?'' 

*  at  was." 

"  Of  course,  you  despise  her  now  ?  You  do  not  care 
for  her  any  more  ?" 

''  Mr.  Hazelwood — since  such  is  your  name — when  a 
man  really  loves,  he  does  not  forget  so  easily.  I  still  love 
her  as  much  as  ever." 

"  Then  we  will  let  her  speak  for  herself,"  said  Mr.  Hazel- 
wood,  opening  the  door.     *' Come  in,  Eve." 

Another  astonisher  !  Was  Conway  Hazelwood  a  magi- 
cian ?  In  answer  to  his  call,  Eve  Hazelwood  entered, 
dressed  in  white,  but  wrapped  in  a  long,  dark  mantle,  and 
wearing  a  hat.  She  looked  pale  and  agitated,  but  her 
glance  went  fearlessly  around  the  room. 

'^  Miss  Hazelwood,  give  an  account  of  yourself.  "Were 
you  ever  engaged  to  either  of  these  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  fatiier,"  Eve  clearly  and  distinctly  said,  the  name 
coming  very  sweetly  from  her  lips. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  were  not  engaged  to  both  ?  " 

*' Quite  sure." 

^'  To  which  of  them,  then,  were  you  betrothed  ? ' 

"To  Monsieur  D'Arville." 

"  Did  you  love  him,  Eve  ?" 

Eve's  pale  face  flushed,  and  her  sweet  voice  faltered  a 
little. 

"Yes,  father,  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Were  vou  not  also  enojaorod  to  Mr.  Schaffer  ?" 

"Never,  father,  in  all  my  life." 

"  Eve,"  Mr.  Schaffer  began,  reproachfully  ;  but  Mr. 
Hazelwood  interposed  : 

"  You  have  had  your  say,  Mr.  Schaffer ;  let  the  young 
lady  have  hers,  now.     Did  you  ever  love  him.  Eve  ?" 


JUBILATE! 


217 


>> 


P. 


Oh,  the  flash  that  leaped  from  Eve's  bhick  eye,  and  tlie 
indignant  flush  that  flamed  in  her  cheeks. 

'*  Love  him  ? — love  him  ?  I  alwavs  detested  him,  and 
always  shall,  as  long  as  I  live." 

'^  Very  good.  IIow  come  you  then  to  meet  him  by  night, 
m  the  grounds  ?" 

"  I  never  met  him." 

"  Never  in  all  your  life  ?  " 

"  Never  in  all  my  life.     1  wonld  have  died  first  !  " 

**  Eve  !  Eve  !  "  cried  Miss  Forest,  but  again  Mr.  Hazel- 
wood  interposed  : 

"  Wait,  if  you  please,  Miss  Una,  there  is  another  witness 
to  be  heard.     Come  in,  Mrs.  Western." 

He  opened  the  door  again,  and  this  time  there  entered 
the  bent,  and  skinny,  and  disagreeable-looking  old  lady, 
who,  many  a  year  ago,  wanted  to  tell  Una  Forest  her  for- 
tune, and  would  not  be  let. 

"  Mrs.  Western,"  said  Mr.  Hazelwood,  ^' just  cast  your 
eye  round  the  room  and  see  if  you  know  any  one  here. " 

"  I   know   him  ! "   exclaimed  the  old  woman,   shrilly, 
pointing  to  Mr.  Schaffer  ;  "  I  know  him  very  well." 

^*  She  lies  I"  cried  Mr.  Schaffer,  white  with  rage  and 
fear.     "  I  never  saw  her  before  in  my  life." 

'*  Oh,  yes,  you  did,  though,"  said  the  old  lady,  cxult- 
ingly ;  ''yes,  you  did,  though  !  You  saw  me  in  Canada, 
you  know,  and  you  saw  my  Rosie,  too,  as  was  the  very 
image  of  the  pretty  young  lady  in  the  boarding-school, 
that  you  were  in  love  with  ;  and  here  she  is  now,  her  own 
self.  You  paid  our  passage  over  to  England — mine  and 
Rosie's,  you  know — and  you  made  us  keep  out  of  sight, 
down  in  the  village  there,  until  you  should  want  us,  you 
said.  Then  you  came  one  night,  and  told  us  you  were 
going  to  play  a  trick  on  some  one,  and  Kosie  must  dress 
herself  up,  and  meet  you  in  the  grounds  of  Hazelwood,  by 
moonlight,  and  you  were  to  make  love  to  lior,  and  she  wa;" 
to  make  love  to  you.  You  had  it  all  down,  in  bhicd\  and 
white,  what  you  were  both  to  say  ;  and  you  called  her  Eve, 
and  she  was  to  tell  vou  slie  loved  no  one  but  vou,  and  that 
she  was  only  fooling  Monsieur  D'Arville  tlierc  !  Oli,  you 
needn't  look  so  blank,  Mr.  Schaffer,  it's  all  Gospel  truth  ; 
and  Rosie  went,  and  you  brought  her  home  afterward,  jmd 
gave  me  five  golden  guineas  for  my  trouble.  You  never 
were  stingy  about  your  money  ;  I'll  say  that  for  you." 


[f ,  Tfw^ 


f^n 


2l8 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


Wr'-: 


ii  :)•: 


\l\ 


ri    I 


fit 


''It  is  false  I  "  Paul  Schaffer  cried,  white  to  his  very 
lips  ;  "  the  old  hag  lies  I  Is  it  likely  there  should  exist 
another  in  the  world  so  like  Eve  as  to  deceive  Monsieur 
TJ'Arville,  Miss  Forest,  and  Hazel  Wood  !  I  tell  you  it  is 
a  fabrication  from  beginning  to  end  !  Such  a  resemblance 
would  be  impossible  !  " 

''Eve,"  Mr.  Ilazelwood  said,  turning  quietly  to  his 
daughter,  "  go  and  fetch  in  your  ister,  and  do  not  be 
long.  No,  Mr.  Schaffer  ;  you  must  not  leave  just  yet,"  as 
that  gentleman  made  a  motion  to  quit  ;  "  please  to  stay, 
and  see  tlie  play  played  out.  Eve  will  not  be — ah!  here 
she  is  ! " 

There  was  a  general  exclamation,  altogether  irrepress- 
ible, and  Mr.  Arthur  Hazel  wood  gave  a  faint  cry  of  in- 
tensest  amazement,  not  to  say  consternation  ;  for  this  time 
there  entered  two  Eves,  and  which  was  the  one  that  had 
gone  out,  he  could  not,  had  the  fate  of  worlds  depended 
on  it,  have  told.  The  mantle  and  hat  had  been  dropped, 
and  the  two  girls  stood  arrayed  in  flowing  gossamer  white, 
their  long  black  ringlets  falling  like  a  sable  cloud  over 
their  slioulders.  The  same  in  hight,  in  feature,  in  dress  ; 
in  everything  the  resemblance  was  more  astonishing — it 
was  marvelous. 

Mr.  Hazel  wood  looked  at  the  twin  sisters,  standing 
hand-in-hand,  with  downcast  eyes,  and  a  smile,  exultant 
and  triumpliant,  lit  up  his  swarthy  face. 

"Now,  Monsieur  Schalfer,  what  say  you  to  this  ?  Tell 
me  which  is  Eve,  now,  if  you  can  ?  " 

Monsieur  Schaffer  said  nothing  ;  he  only  glanced  at  the 
twin  sisters  with  tlie  eyes  of  a  baffled  tiger.  With  his  own 
weapons  he  had  heed  foiled. 

*'  Can  anybody  tell  me  which  is  Eve  ?  "  Mr.  Hazelwood 
inquired,  looking  from  face  to  face.  "Monsieur  D'Ar- 
ville,  I  leave  it  to  you  ?  " 

All !  what  resemblance  can  baffle  love,  blind  though  it 
be  ?  Over  one  face,  drooping  and  downcast,  a  blush  and 
a  smile  was  dawning.  That  was  the  face  of  his  darling. 
The  likeness  might  baffle  others — it  never  could  baffle  him 
again.  The  faces  were  the  same  in  every  iota,  but  the 
world  lieid  only  one  Eve  for  him  He  was  beside  her  in  a 
moment,  with  outstretched  hands. 

"Eve  !'"  he  exclaimed,  "can  you  ever  forgive  me  ?  I 
have  been  cruel,  unjust  and  ungenerous,  but  think  how 


f 


JULII  ATE! 


219 


they  deceived  me  !  I  do  not  deserve  pardon,  but  still  I 
hope  ! " 

''  Hope  on,  hope  ever  !"  Eve  said,  brightly,  laying  both 
hands  in  his  ;  *'  I  forgive  you  and  every  one  else  on  this 
happy  day  I " 

*' That's  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Ilazelwood,  stroking  his 
mustache  ;  ^*  I  thought  you  would  find  out  Eve,  Monsieur 
D'Arville  !  And  now,  Rose,  I  think  you  have  a  word  to 
say :  Did  you  ever  see  that  gentleman  there  before  ?  " 

He  pointed,  to  Paul  Schaifer,  and  the  young  girl  shrunk 
away,  visibly  with  the  same  cowed  and  frightened  look. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  clinging  to  her  father  ;  ''  I  iiave 
seen  him  often." 

"  Where  ?  Speak  out,  Rosie  ;  no  one  shall  hurt  you 
now." 

"  I  saw  him  in  Canada  first.  He  brought  grand tnotlier 
and.  I  to  Enghand,  and  used  to  visit  us  often  in  the  viliago." 

*^Did  you  ever  meet  him  anvwhero  besides  in  the  vil- 
laire." 


*"'  Once, 


night  last  week, 
that " 


in   the  grounds  here.     It  was  one  moonlight 


He  called  me  Eve,  and  he  made  me  s:!^' 


*'  That  vou  loved  him,  eh  ?  " 

*'Yes,     Rose  said,  coloring,  *'^  and  a  great  many  otiier 


J? 


things  I  did  not  like. 

"That  will  do.  And  now,  my  lord,  what  say  you  to  all 
this  ?  " 

Mr.  Hazelwood  turned  to  the  half-open  door,  where  two 
gentlemen  had  been  standing,  unobserved  lookers-oji. 
Both  advanced  with  the  words  he  spoke,  aiul  one  was  Lord 
Landsdowne,  the  other  the  vicar  of  the  parish. 

"  It  is  more  like  the  last  act  of  a  drama  th.m  a  scene  in 
every-day  life,"  answered  his  lordship  ;  "it  seems  to  have 
been  diamond  cut  diamond  all  through  the  piece," 

"A  mos':  surprising  affair,  truly,"  said  the  clergyman, 
looking  through  his  spectacles  at  the  twin  sisters;  "I 
should  never  know  one  of  these  young  ladies  from  the 
other.  As  his  lordship  remarks,  it  is  more  like  a  drama 
than  anything  else." 

"And  dramas  always  ended  in  marriages  in  my  theater- 
going days,"  said  Mr.  Hazelwood  ;  "  so  suppose  we  be 
consistent  to  the  end.  Mr.  Vicar,  get  your  book.  My 
lord,  will  you  be  best  man  ?     Rose,  will  you  be  ]>rideniaid, 


im 


220 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


f»  ii ' 


!      I 


and  I  am  liere  in  jjai^entis  to  give  the  bride  away.  I  am 
sure  Mr.  Soliafter  and  Miss  Forest  will  be  delighted  to  wit- 
ness an  impromptu  wedding,  even  tliough  there  be  no 
breakfast.  Sland  forward,  D'Arville.  Make  sure  of  Eve 
this  time,  lest  you  should  lose  her  again. ^' 

It  was  all  so  stirringly  sudden  that  neitlier  Paul  Schaffer 
nor  Una  Forest  could  do  other  than  look  on,  and  wonder 
whether  they  were  awake  or  asleep.  The  vicar  produced 
book  and  stole.  Claude  D'Arville  stepped  forward,  hold- 
ing Eve  by  the  hand.  Rose  and  Lord  Landsdowne  took 
their  places,  and  the  ceremony  began.  *'  Wilt  thou  take  ?  " 
etc.,  was  twice  asked,  and  answered,  and  in  one  moment 
there  were  no  longer  two  Miss  Hazel  woods  in  the  room, 
for  one  of  them  was  Madame  Claude  D^Vrville. 


( 


in 


'i' 


i! 


#1 


!;i 


if  ^;! 


! 


■  u 

'. ..  ;  I 
I' 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 


A  PARTING  PEEP. 


Yes,  they  were  married  ;  nothing  but  death  could  sep- 
arate them  more.  And  Mr.  Ilazelwood  turned  to  Paul 
Schaffer,  the  baffled  plotter,  witii  his  quiet  smile  of  power. 

''  You  see,  Mr.  Schaffer,  our  life-drama  has  ended  like 
any  other  drama,  in  a  marriage  ;  the  villain  of  the  play 
lias  been  foiled,  and  the  hero  and  heroine  reign  trium- 
phant. There  is  nothing  more ;  the  curtain  must  fall 
now  ;  and,  before  it  drops,  allow  me,  in  the  name  of  the 
company,  to  hid  you  a  very  good-morning,  and  a  pleasant 
trip  back  to  Canada.  Shall  I  ring  for  a  servant  to  show 
you  out,  or  do  you  know  the  way  yourself  ?" 

*'  I  shall  save  you  the  trouble,  Mr.  Conway  Hazelwood, 
or  Senor  Mendez,  or  whatever  your  name  may  be,"  said 
Mr.  Schaffer,  with  an  evil  sneer,  '^  and  I  beg  your  pretty 
daughter  to  understand  I  shall  not  die  of  a  broken  heart, 
though  I  have  lost  her.  Farewell,  Miss  Forrest ;  I  am 
sorry  for  you  ;  you  have  lost  your  love  as  well  as  I,  but  let 
the  ex-schoolmaster  go.  There  are  as  good  fish  in  the  sea, 
you  know,  as  ever  were  caught.^' 

He  was  gone  while  he  spoke.  Eve  dared  not  look  at 
LTua  ;  but  D'Arville  opened  his  eyes  to  their  widest  ex- 
tent, as  he  fixed  them  on  her  striking  figure. 


I 


A  PARTING  PEEP. 


221 


(( 


ni 

et 
II, 

hit 

X- 


What  does  he  mean  ?  "  she  slowly  asked  ;  "  surely  he 
alluded  to  me." 

Conway  lluzelwood  laughed. 

"  Xovor  mind,  D'Arville  ;  you  have  got  all  you  want,  so 
be  satislied  and  ask  no  questions.  Look  up,  Una  ;  there 
is  balm  in  (Jiload  yet,  and  we  will  let  bygones  be  bygones 
on  this  eventful  morning.  Won't  you  come  over  and  wish 
Eve  iov." 

She  dared  not  refuse.  But  the  white  face  had  never 
been  so  white  before,  and  the  lips  that  spoke  trembled. 
Eve's  embrace  was  as  pitying  and  tender  as  it  was  sincere. 

"  We  will  always  be  friends,  cousin  Una,"  she  said, 
*'  and  tliat  miserable  night  and  day  will  be  as  if  it  had 
never  been.     Where  is  Hazel  ?  " 

"  In  her  own  room.  Slie  is  not  very  well,"  Una  said, 
extricating  herself  from  Eve's  arms,  and  shrinking  into 
the  corner  again. 

*'  I  must  go  to  her,  Claude.  Poor  dear  Hazel  !  I  must 
go  to  her  at  once." 

"  Not  just  at  once,  if  you  please,  Mrs.  D'Arville,"  said 
her  father  ;  ''  we  have  not  quite  done  with  you  yet.  Just 
take  this  paper,  and  when  you  have  cast  your  eye  over  it, 
pass  it  to  your  husband." 

Eve  took  the  formidably  legal-looking  document  beheld 
out. 

''  What  is  it,  father  ?  " 

''  Your  wedding-portion,  my  dear.  A  free  gift  of  Hazel- 
wood  to  you  and  Mr.  D'Arville  !  There  !  no  thanks  ;  I 
don't  want  it.  I  infinitely  prefer  my  Cuban  estate,  whither 
I  am  going  next  week,  and  intend  taking  Rose  with 
me." 

"And  what  am  I  to  do  ?  Where  am  I  to  go  ?"  help- 
lessly began  Arthur  Hazel  wood. 

"Very  true.  It  seems  rather  a  pity  to  turn  you  and 
Una  out,  doesn't  it  ?  Eve,  what  is  to  be  done  with  this 
uncle  and  cousin  of  yours  ?  The  place  is  your  own  now, 
and  you  must  decide." 

"  Then  let  everything  be  as  it  was  !  Oh,  father  I  I  could 
never  be  happy  here  if  they  had  to  leave  it  to  make  room 
for  me.  Uncle  Arthur,  cousin  Una,  I  shall  take  it  as  the 
greatc^  u  favor  if  you  will  stay  here  always,  and  let  things 
go  on  for  the  future  as  they  have  done  in  the  past." 

Mr.  Arthur  Hazelwood  looked  inexpressibly  relieved, 


III 


JfW^ 


h' 


^■H 


'I 


wit  .t 


J  i 


[a 


it 


' ' ,  i 


i^ 


M 


1 1 


222 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


and  Una  bowed  with  averted  face.     Truly,  Eve  was  heap- 
ing coals  of  fire  on  her  head. 

"  You're  a  good  girl,  Eve,"  her  father  said,  (and 
D'Arville  smiled  approval  too),  "  and  it  sliall  be  as  you 
say.  Little  Hazel  shall  come  with  Rose  and  me  to  Cuba, 
and  we  Avill  teacli  her  there  to  forget  that  scamp  Schaf- 
ler." 

''I  should  like  to  go,  too,"  Eve  said,  wistfully.  *'l 
don't  want  to  be  separated  from  you  all  so  soon." 

''  You  ungrateful  little  minx  !  what  do  you  think  of 
thiit  speech,  Mr.  Bridegroom  ?  " 

''I  think  it  perfectly  natural,  monsieur  I  Eve  will  be 
very  lonely  here,  I  am  afraid,  if  you  carry  off  her  sister 
and  cousin  so  soon." 

"  And  I  want  to  see  Cuba  so  much,"  pleaded  Eve,  '^  and 
Iliizol  would  give  a  year  of  her  life  for  a  walk  down 
Broadway  again.      Let  us  go  with  you,  father — please  do." 

Nobody  could  resist  that  "  jolease,"  no  heart  less  hard 
tlian  the  nether  millstone,  the  kiss  that  accompanied  it. 
Mr.  Hazel  wood  laughed,  and  pushed  her  back  to 
D'Arville. 

"  There,  keep  her  to  yourself,  will  you.  Yes,  come ; 
you  may  as  well  make  your  wedding-tour  there  as  any- 
where else.  See  that  your  furbelows  are  packed  in  a  week 
tliough  ;  for  this  day  week  precisely  we  start  for  New 
Y'ork,  from  thence  to  Havana.  Now,  go  and  hunt  up 
Hazel,  and  tell  her  the  news  as  fast  as  you  like.  It  will 
be  better  than  medicine  for  her,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  too  have  a  favor  to  ask,"  said  Lord  Landsdowne, 
coining  forward.  ''  Are  you  overcrowded  now,  Mr.  Hazel- 
wood,  or  will  you  make  room  for  me  ?  I  have  long  wished 
to  visit  America,  and  I  should  never  find  the  trip  so 
pleasant  as  now.  I  want  to  see  Cuba,  too  ;  will  you  make 
room  for  nie  ?" 

Mr.  Hazel  wood  grasped  his  hand  heartily. 

"  With  all  my  heart,  my  lord.  I  do  not  forget  the 
debt  of  gratitude  I  owe  you  for  your  kindness  to  Eve. 
Come  witli  us,  by  all  means.  It  needed  only  your  pres- 
ence to  make  our  party  complete.  And  now  suppose  we 
adjourn  ;  I  see  by  Arthur's  face  we  are  boring  him  to 
death,  and  I  begin  to  feel  as  if  I  should  like  some  lunch- 
eon. Una,  if  you  will  see  to  it,  we  will  relieve  Arthur  of 
our  presence.     Gentlemen,  come." 


A  PARTING  PEEP. 


223 


|ne, 

:el- 

led 

so 

ike 


Ithe 

]ve. 

res- 

\ve 

to 
Icli- 

of 


And,  into  the  great  sea  of  the  Past,  two  more  waves, 
two  more  yours,  have  been  ingulfed  forever.  One  last 
look,  dear  friend  of  mine,  ere  we  mejiLally  shake  hands 
and  part,  at  the  living,  breathing,  existing  figures,  that 
have  passed  before  our  magic-lantern  for  so  long. 

And  to  begin  at  the  very  end,  there  is  Mr.  Paul  Schaf- 
fer.  If  you  ever  go  to  that  quaint  Freneh  city,  Montreal, 
and  take  a  walk  down  Bonaventuro  street,  yon  will  see 
his  shingle  hanging  out  in  front  of  one  of  the  most  stylisli 
offices  in  the  street.  .^Er.  Schaifer  is  a  rising  lawyer,  and 
a  member  of  the  Canadian  legislature,  and  the  world  goes 
very  well  indeed  with  him.  He  told  Eve,  you  remember, 
he  would  not  break  his  heart ;  and  he  has  kept  his  word. 
He  has  a  handsome  town  house,  and  a  villa  at  St.  Croix  ; 
lie  has  fast  horses,  handsome  equipages,  well-dressed  and 
well-trained  servants,  a  full  cellar,  full  coffers,  a  good 
name,  and  gives  the  best  dinner-parties  of  any  man  in 
JMontreal.  He  has  married  a  dashing  Canadian  belle  and 
heiress,  who  thinks  him  perfection,  or  next  door  to  it,  and 
has  never  heard  of  that  little  English  episode  in  liis  life 
that  happened  two  years  ago.  It's  not  the  rule  to  make 
the  villain  of  the  story  happy  and  prosperoui^,  I  know,  and 
I  hate  to  do  it  ;  but  truth  is  mighty  and  will  prevail. 
Mr.  Schaffer  was  flourishing  in  Montreal  the  last  time  I 
was  there,  and  his  success  is  no  fault  of  mine. 

Dr.  Lance  is  in  New  York,  training  the  ideas  of  his 
pupils  how  to  shoot,  and  crosser  than  ever,  lie  has  not 
been  to  England  since,  but  he  talks  of  going  there  next 
long  vacation. 

And  in  England — oh,  there  are  hap[)y  hearts  there  ! 
In  all  broad  Essex  there  is  no  happier  liome  than  Hazel- 
wood,  and  none  more  beloved  and  respected  by  all  than 
its  master  and  mistress.  Eve  goes  singing  througli  the 
house  all  day  long,  like  a  lark,  and  D'Arville  has  turned 
out  a  regular  gentleman-farmer,  and  takes  more  interest 
in  Durhams,  and  crops,  and  overseeing  his  estate,  and  his 
tenants,  than  ever  he  did  in  correcting  French  exercises 
and  Latin  themes,  in  his  days  of  professorship.  There  is 
something  else  he  takes  an  interest  in  besides  fat  cattle, 
and  that  is  in  a  fat  little  baby  with  big  black  eyes,  that 
half  a  year  ago  uttered  its  first  squall  in  Hazelwood. 
They  call  it  Conway  ;  and  Mr.  D'Arville  thinks  there 
never  was  nor  ever  will  be  such  another  baby  ;  an  opinion 


'^i 


n 


224 


THE  RIVAL  BROTHERS. 


3,:' 


i'l 


M' 


M- 


'{i 


in  which  Mrs.  D'Arville  fully  shares.  Mr.  D'Arville 
hibors  {ilso  under  the  impression  that  his  dark-eyed  wife 
never  looks  half  so  liandsome  as  wlien  she  bends  over  tliat 
little  cradle  and  sings  its  small  inmate  asleep  ;  and  there 
is  no  doubt  he  is  right. 

Mr.  Arthur  Ilazelwood  still  drags  out  life  in  his  own 
way,  as  much  like  a  snail  in  its  shell  as  ever  ;  and  Miss 
Forest  flits  like  a  little  white  ghost  from  room  to  room, 
shod  with  the  shoes  of  silence.  She  is  thinner  than  of 
yore,  and  the  fair  hair  seems  to  have  faded  white  ;  but 
whether  she  is  happy,  or  whether  she  sulfers,  she  is  not 
one  to  wear  her  heart  on  her  sleeve,  and  no  one  will  ever 
know. 

And  at  Black  Monk's,  there  is  a  new  Ladv  Landsdowne 
— a  very  different  lady  from  the  last.  Her  present  lady- 
ship is  a  plump,  hazel-eyed,  hazel-haired  laughing  little 
peeress,  who  answers,  moreover,  to  the  name  of  Hazel. 
Yes,  indeed  !  that  she  is  ;  and  she  and  Lord  Landsdowne 
are  like  turtle  doves,  and  Black  ^Monk's  is  a  very  different 
place  to  the  Black  Monk's  of  two  years  ago.  The  great 
event  happened  while  they  were  in  Cuba,  and  Hazel  has 
not  quite  got  used  to  being  called  **]My  Lady"  yet;  but 
she  thinks  it  all  very  delightful,  and  tries  to  be  stately 
and  dignified,  but  the  happy  smiles  will  come  in  spite  of 
her,  and  Lady  Landsdowne  will  be  Hazel  Wood  to  the 
end  of  the  chapter. 

Mr.  Conway  Hazelvvood  resides  on  his  Cuban  estate, 
but  he  has  been  to  England  to  see  his  little  namesake,  and 
he  has  made  his  will  and  has  left  Master  Conway  D'Arville 
all  he  possesses.  He  is  not  an  old  man,  but  he  never 
will  marry — he  is  happy  enough  in  his  peaceful  latter  life 
to  atone  for  his  tragic  and  bereaved  youth. 

Rose  is  in  Cuba,  too,  the  bride  of  a  wealthy  Creole 
planter,  and  a  near  neighbor  of  her  father's.  Her  old 
grandmother  lives  with  her — Rose  has  an  affection  for 
her,  notwithstanding  the  past,  and  the  old  lady  has  no 
call  any  more  to  tell  fortunes  for  a  living. 

Yes,  dear  reader,  they  are  all  happy,  and  so  we  will 
leave  them.  All,  perhaps,  except  one.  For  Una  Forest 
is  thirty-six  years  of  age,  and — oh,  dreadful  fate  ! — an  old 
maid  ! 

THE  EKD. 


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